


Beautiful Tomorrow

by SunAndMoon (LadyMorgaine)



Series: Skinship Collection [3]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, JiHan, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Idol, Reconciliation, Soonhoon - Freeform, meanie, verkwan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-07-01 00:27:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 56,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15762855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMorgaine/pseuds/SunAndMoon
Summary: Years ago, at the end of Seventeen’s military service and promotions as a group, Boo Seungkwan made the biggest mistake of his life and chose a lucrative career as a reality show host over possible happiness. Now, with the show past and the members of the group scattered to the wind, he goes home to sort his mind out, hoping that his mother’s love and food can help ease the sting of the past few years. Imagine his surprise when he is not only confronted with his past but the most painful choice he had ever made.AKA Boo returns to Jeju and find an old, familiar face there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by the wonderful @rainbow_osha on Twitter ([rainbow_osha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbow_osha) on here), who is my sister in lamenting the current Verkwan drought. She made me a wonderful moodboard for a story idea I had milling around in my head. Things started to come together when I listened to Seungkwan's wonderful cover of 'Beautiful Tomorrow' just before I slept.

Seungkwan stared dry-eyed at the airplane seat in front of him. The Jeju Air jet wasn’t large enough to have a first class section, not that he was as famous as he had been in the touring days. Kids didn’t cheer for him as they had for Seventeen. Right now his pink hoodie sufficed as a shield, with a simple mask over his mouth. Oddly, he wasn’t sure whether he was sad or not.

 

No. Scratch that. He _was_ sad, not because he needed the validation of the screen, but because he missed everyone. The band members were split up all over the globe; Mingyu-hyung was doing catwalks in Italy this season, tall and skinny and fierce, whilst Jihoon-hyung and Soonyoung-hyung had become the reigning (secret) couple at Pledis, coaxing the next generation of idols into being stars. Joshua-hyung was overseas in the USA last he had heard, phenomenally successful as a singer/songwriter. Seungcheol-hyung had long since moved to the business side of things; he had been groomed to take over since his idol days, and these days only spit fire on rare retrospectives.

 

Jun-hyung and Minghao-hyung were in China full-time these days, co-owning a chain of dancing studios and making regular television appearances. Wonwoo-hyung was somewhere in Tuscany, writing the next instalment of his award-winning retrospective series. Channie – their Lee Chan, god bless him – was the only one he still spoke to regularly. Performing as a solo idol, he had often come through the show, and they kept in touch on Kakao – well, more frequently than he did with the others.

 

He could see the sunshine change in colour as it always seemed to do when coming to Jeju-do, and wondered whether this place still felt like his heart. He had been vastly successful the last fifteen years, barring a stint in the military. He owned buildings, stretches of land, and was the kind of rich that could walk into a shop and buy what he wanted without looking at the tag. He had three houses and two apartments, he had bought his parents homes and a car. Yet for all of that, all it took to make his heart weak was the sight of Hallasan as they descended through the clouds.

 

His heart sighed and his chest unlocked, faced with the promise of three months in the Jeju sun. Three months of ignoring his own house on the island and enjoying his mother’s marinated crab. Three months of protesting that he didn’t want to visit the old rail-bike business, despite secretly wanting to. Three months of playing in the closest thing to a tropical paradise he ever wanted.

 

Three months of deciding what he wanted out of life now that his contract on the show had ended. They had asked him to stay on, offered a new one, but he hadn’t slowed down once in the last fifteen years, and he wanted a break to think.

 

A break to wonder what could have been.

 

His mind shuddered away from painful memories and he inhaled as the stewardess announced their descent beginning. Straightening, he murmured an apology to the portly woman beside him and lifted the window screen all the way so that she could see too. The bright Jeju sunshine spilled over him, picking out the subtle rose hues of his hoodie, the frayed white tears in his jeans. Looking down, his mouth curved into a smile as he unlocked his phone, revealing the bucket list he had compiled. Things to do, things to see, things to heal his heart and remind him of his roots.

 

Jeju’s son finally came home.

 

================================================

 

It was sufficiently in the middle of the week that he had protested when his parents wanted to pick him up. Instead, dragging his ginormous hardshell case behind him, he wandered to the nearest CU and sank down at the picnic tables outside with his tea, listening to the roar of the waves. There was a Jeju tour bus off to one side, kinda spoiling the view, but he didn’t want to go all the way to the beach. He had learnt his lesson about suitcases on sand one memorable night fifteen thousand years ago, when everyone had been drunk and Kota Kinabalu their oyster. After that, their manager had lo-jacked their phones for a year.

 

He grinned at the memory as he sipped the tea, feeling the bunched muscles in his upper back start to relax. The wind started to play, fretting its fingers through his hair (still blonde, but slightly too long, he needed a hairdresser), and the sun slanted down behind him. He’d practically have to cross the whole island to get to his mother’s place, and briefly he reconsidered moving to his place. It didn’t even have furniture, just long rooms full of reclaimed wood floors and large windows towards the beach and sun, but no one’d bother him if he laid down there to do nothing for the next six hours…

 

His decision was made in a flash. Chugging the last of his tea, he ambled back into the CU for his suitcase and lunch, buying enough snacks to last the night. One tap of his card, one apologetic message to his mother later, and he was out of there, into the summoned Uber and on his way to the south side of the island. His house there abutted the massive Jeju Resort Complex, and had cost an arm and a leg, but it had been worth it for the tiny, exquisite golden sand cove that was exclusively his. The two massive black rock formations it lay between kept tourists out, and in the five years that he had had it, fifteen people offered to buy it, it tripled in value and… and…

 

And it was his querencia, he thought sadly. Perhaps that ‘s why his mind felt so sluggish, because he hadn’t been there in too long.

 

The walk from the gate to his front door was a long one, longer hauling his massive suitcase up with him, and he was out of breath when he reached the carved wooden door. These days he wasn’t in concert fitness anymore, never mind that his body had turned lean and more muscular than he had been able to attain in his youth. Struggling the door open to the accompaniment of his mother’s text, he made a beeline for the large lounge area and whipped the dusty curtains open with an excited whine.

 

Jeju’s sunlight smacked him in the face, bowled him back and over, until he sat in a puddle of it trying to catch his breath. All of a sudden… all of a sudden he wanted to cry and smile and sing, all of it in a great big confused flood of emotions. He dug his phone out instead, cueing up the latest AVES single before he read the text.

 

_Aish Kwannie I understand but we miss you. Promise you will come to dinner tonight instead! I have a surprise for you, and I’ll make your favourite dishes!_

His eyes teared. His mom was literally the best person on the planet.

 

_I’ll be there, Eomma, promise! Should I dress up?_

_No no, come as you are. You can stay for some time this time right?_

_As long as I want. I’ll tell you the news later._

_Okay okay, make sure you are here at seven!_

He sunk back, flopped to his side, set an alarm and went to sleep on the floor of his own house, where the wooden floors smelled like citrus still an the golden sunlight poured over his body.

 

=====================================

 

He did dress up just a little, slipping into a fresh pair of jeans and a pale green shirt after the coldest shower of his life. It would take time for the amenities to get switched on, and more for furniture to show up, but he already had more energy than he had had in the last year, and he ran up the last few steps, souvenir bag heavy in his hands.

 

“Seungkwanie!” his mother greeted, pulling him into a tight hug before his sisters’ children got to him, then his sisters, and finally his father, until everything was a spill of hugs and laughter. They ruffled his hair out of order, took his bags from him and ushered him into the kitchen before his mother chased the rest of them out so that she could hug her son again.

 

“Eomma,” he whispered into her hair. She had never been the tallest, and was just a tiny bit shorter now. “Eomma, I’m so glad to be home. You don’t know, things have been so weird in Seoul, and I had to come here and clear my mind and…”

 

“Seungkwanie,” she interrupted gently. “There was someone else that wanted to say hi as well.”

 

The noise behind him died a little as someone else moved into the doorway. Flustered to have been caught hugging his mother like a little boy, he straightened and looked around.

 

“Hello, Boo,” said the voice from his dreams and nightmares. Easy, smooth, deep, infinitely familiar.

 

“Hansolie…” he breathed, and felt his world stutter to a stop as he looked up at Chwe Hansol, the biggest mistake of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. I highly advise that you go and chat to @rainbow_osha and ask her to show you her moodboards, they're exquisite. 
>   2. The [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HeOfaEEdv7w) that inspired the new fic. 
>   3. Updates will be very sporadic and be warned, this will become very adult! 
> 



	2. Chapter 2

It was outrageous that anyone should have this impact on him when they had last met three years ago. Seungkwan’s heart shouldn’t have stood for it, but here it was, thump-thumping weakly at the sight of his first crush, his first love, his first time, his first heartbreak. There were so many firsts of his wrapped up around the man in front of him that he didn’t know how to speak. He wanted to burst into furious tears. He wanted to run away. He wanted to break something. Even after all his years of growing up, of being an adult, Chwe Hansol had the power to want to listen to his heart, not his head.

 

He swallowed.

 

“He’s been here for a week already!” Seungkwan’s eomma said happily. “Aish, it feels like yesterday when you two were here for that week together. Remember? When he accidentally called me halmeoni?”

 

“Yes,” he got out through a too-dry throat. “I remember.”

 

“You laughed so hard you nearly fell over,” Hansol added. “And all of it on camera. I thought I should come by for old times’ sake, not to mention your food, eomeonim. I’m still thankful that you offered me a place to stay. The hotel is only fun the first few times.”

 

She beamed up at him, leaving Seungkwan to go and hug him. “You two catch up okay? Take a walk or something. Dinner will be ready in an hour, and you’ll get no rest here.”

 

Seungkwan, conditioned to smile at his mother, smiled, but he felt like a marionette when he scooted out the kitchen, then the house, holding the door open for the tall shadow in his wake. They wandered down the street and around the curve towards the corner. Hallasan loomed behind the house he had bought his parents, threatening to bring dusk. He prayed for the cover of darkness, when he didn’t have to look at the man to his side. Even now, years after his idol career, Chwe Hansol was still the best-looking man he knew. The only change was his hair, which was his natural black, instead of the faded honey-blonde he had worn then.

 

“Why are you here?” he managed to strangle out. “On Jeju?”

 

Hansol shot him a sideways look. “It’s not only your island, you know. It’s always been one of my favourite places, and the real Hawaii is too far away. I needed some time away.”

 

Seungkwan’s temper flared. “In my parents’ house?” he asked. “After all that happened?”

 

“They had always been kind to me and _yes_ , even after all that happened. Are you still offended over what happened all those years ago? That’s a bit petty, don’t you think? Even for you, Boo.”

 

Seungkwan wasn’t a teenager anymore. Teenagers could afford to shout and cry and slug their ex-friends in the face. He was a grown-ass man. “Listen,” he said tiredly. “I’ve had a long few years. I thought I could come here and relax. I don’t want to haul up old fights. I don’t know how much longer you’re going to be on the island, but can I please ask… what?” He blinked at the surprised look on Hansol’s face. “What?”

 

Hansol’s old smile tugged at his face. “You’ve changed, that’s all. Not just in looks.”

 

Seungkwan’s brows knit together. “What do you mean? Are you saying I’m ugly now? I know I’m not idol-level any longer, okay? You don’t need to wipe my face in it.”

 

“No,” Hansol said easily. “I meant that you seem a little calmer. If I had said that to the old Boo Seungkwan you’d already have been pouting and glaring. If anything, you’re even more beautiful now than you were back then.” At Seungkwan’s gobsmacked expression, he lifted his hand and raked it through his hair with a sigh. “I’m tired too,” he admitted. “I wanted to relax too. Can we just… get along for a little while longer? I’ll move out in the morning. As much as I hate on hotels, the Hyatt here isn’t that bad.”

 

Seungkwan stared at him as twilight slid over the world, seeing his features acquire a slow blue tinge to them. His heart rushed, told him to leap, that he screwed up enough in his life already. That most people didn’t get a second chance to right such a monumental mistake.

 

“I have a house,” he blurted out. “Near that area. It’s empty, but it’s got like four bedrooms and I was planning on shopping for furniture tomorrow.”

 

“Do you charge hotel rates?”

 

Seungkwan felt his cheeks puff up with indignation as they had not since they parted the last time. “What? No! It’s literally empty, what am I going to charge you for, the floor?”

 

“No little mints on the pillows?”

 

Seungkwan narrowed his eyes. “Now you’re pushing it,” he growled, but his heart melted just a little more when Hansol gave him the old, gummy grin that had always been his alone.

 

“Boo Seungkwan, I would love to throw myself on your mercy,” Hansol said semi-seriously. “Even if you only have a floor. But if you want, I’ll help you shop for furniture tomorrow. You don’t hire the place out whilst you’re not here?”

 

Seungkwan started walking again, slowly turning towards the house. “No. It’s… it’s my place. I’ve lived for so long in rooms and hotels and with people constantly around me it’s like I can feel their imprint on the walls sometime. The house is clean, you know? Scoured by the wind and the sunlight until I’m the only mind in there.” He paused to consider. “And you. You’re too quiet to make much difference to it.”

 

Hansol muttered something, but started walking back with him. The silence between them lasted until just before the turn leading to the house, where a streetlamp gilded light over the cool blue shadows in his black hair. “Boo,” he said softly. “I don’t want to fight either. Let’s just… let’s just declare a truce for the next week. Let’s just forget everything that’s happened, everything that might still happen, all the fights, the world outside. Please. Just a small space for healing, if that’s okay with you.”

 

It cost Seungkwan another few shreds of his pitifully limited courage to reach out and squeeze Hansol’s hand, feeling the still-smooth slide of one palm against the other. Hansol’s fingertips were rougher though, calloused from a guitar or other stringed instrument. “This is still my querencia,” he said softly, looking around. “Of course I’ll give you your week.”

 

The look Hansol gave him made him wonder, made him tilt his head. “Is yours still your lyric book and that tree in your parents’ yard?” he asked, voice soft against the falling twilight.

 

Hansol’s hand tightened. “It was never that,” he shared as he opened the gate for Seungkwan, pulling his hand away. “I just said that for the show. It wasn’t like I could say what I really wanted to say in those years.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You’ve always been my querencia,” Hansol muttered, walking forward and leaving him standing just inside the gate. “Even then.”

 

Seungkwan lunged forward to wrap his arms around Hansol’s waist, pressing his face into the furrow of his back so that he wouldn’t cry. He smelled of good things: sun, sea, laundry detergent, some kind of soft, delicious cologne. For a second, just the barest of seconds, he was back in their glory years again, where they were two young, scared boys befriending each other. He inhaled a shuddering breath, felt the ripple and play of Hansol’s abs through his cotton band shirt, and fought not to clench his fists in the material.

 

“A week,” he whispered into Hansol’s back. “A week, and we’ll talk afterwards.”

 

“A week,” Hansol promised back, locking arms over his hands.

 

This time when they entered the house they caterpillar-walked together because neither wanted to let the other go, and Seungkwan felt vastly happier. He only pulled away when his youngest niece came running to his ankle, and picked her up to spin her around, seeing his mother’s gentle smile pointed at him.

 

“Seungkwan’s invited me to stay at his place,” Hansol said as he sat down at the groaning table, one kid on each knee. “Thank you for putting up with me this long, Eomeoni. I’ll go and buy the groceries tomorrow morning to say thanks. After that I think it’s furniture…?” He looked towards Seungkwan.

 

Seungkwan nodded as he opened the juice boxes he had brought for his nice, shovelling open a spot at the table with his butt at Hansol’s side. The shuffling brought him close enough that their knees touched, and he smiled at the secret feel of it. “I don’t have anything in the house. I’ll need to get at least two beds and some appliances in if you don’t want us on your neck each day for food.”

 

“Nonsense!” his eomma chided. “I’d love it if you did.”

 

“Hanseung runs an appliance store here on the island,” his sister chipped in, starting to dish up. “I’ll get him to give you the family discount. I think he’s got a cousin in the furniture trade too. It’ll cost you though, if they have to deliver immediately.”

 

“I’ve got money,” Seungkwan said primly, and blushed when she wiggled her eyebrows at him.

 

“Stop teasing your brother,” his eomma said. “Come on, help me carry in the food.”

 

It was the best meal he could remember in ages, from his mother’s prizewinning marinated crab to the way that Hansol’s knee pressed against his constantly. When he left the house hours later, getting back to his place seemed to be a dream and he wandered into the ghostly house, wondering what it’d be like to have Hansol in there as well.

 

“A week,” he breathed to himself, standing in the pool of starlight in the lounge. “Heal first.”

 

Feeling perfectly at ease, he sat down right there and rested his head back on a bundle of pants and shirts, tucking his phone off to the side. There’d be enough time tomorrow for the rest of his life. For that moment, he fell asleep to the memory of Hansol’s smile at dusk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. This is mostly going to be an angst-less fic, with only tiny patches as they work through their problems. 
>   2. I don't know how long it's going to be. Probably not that long? 
>   3. I have no idea what Vernon's querencia is, I don't think they mentioned it in the show? I could just have missed it though. Oh well, it's this now. ;) 
>   4. I know it might be heresy, but the song for this chapter is '[Epiphany](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fIkZOLsnoqY&ab_channel=ibighit)' from BTS. I think the theme of having loved and made mistakes, and trying to make better decisions in the future fits in well here, though the mistakes aren't quite the same. 
> 



	3. Chapter 3

The early morning found Seungkwan awake without the need for any coffee, though he could feel his need for rooibos tea whisper through his bones. Instead, pulling a sweater on and draping another around himself, he sat and watched the sun come up. It had been years and years since he sang at the dawn festivals. He had forgotten the impact of a good Jeju sunrise. Idly, comfortably, he watched it for over an hour, until his lips quirked into a smile at seeing the rose quartz and serenity in the sky. For a moment he felt homesick for his time as one of Seventeen’s main vocals, but he brushed it off.

 

Somewhere in the night the electricity had come on, and the water in the shower was piping hot. He spent nearly twenty minutes in it, soaping down thoughtfully. This time he remembered to slather his exposed bits with a special sun-care lotion. After that it was the work of moments to jump into a fresh set of clothes, lock his suitcase into a closet and grab his things, ready to go. This time he decided to go for a taxi, and he soon rocked up at his mother’s house with plenty of coffees and teas, not to mention juices for the kids and breakfast pastries. She kissed him, ruffled his still-damp hair and pointed into the house.

 

“He had a bad time last night,” she muttered above the sound of the household slowly waking up. “Go and wake him up, okay?”

 

Seungkwan nodded curiously and ambled to the bedroom she indicated, opening the door just enough to let him slip inside. The curtains were drawn tightly, casting everything into shadows, so he walked carefully to get to the bed. Fetching up next to it, he carefully eased down on the end, watching the lump on it.

 

Hansolie still slept nude, it seemed; during the night the blanket had slipped down enough to hitch just above his butt, revealing a long stretch of muscular back. He reached out to twitch it just a little higher before he reached out to feel the fine, smooth-grained skin. Despite the lack of cover, it felt warm, and for a moment he delighted in rubbing his thumb over the ball of his shoulder, biting his lip. It reminded him of other mornings, where they had woken up together, not alone, wrapped up in each other, until there wasn’t a separate inch between them.

 

“Hansolie,” he whispered, pushing away those memories. “Hansolie, wake up.”

 

Seconds later, after some shaking of his shoulder and a few pats, Hansol lifted his head to look at him through sleepy half-lidded eyelashes. “Boo?” he grumbled, voice gravelly and deep from sleep.

 

Seungkwan’s hand wanted to lift to comb through his hair, but he suppressed the impulse. “It’s morning, Nonie,” he whispered softly. “You have to get up now. We have a long day ahead.”

 

“Five more minutes,” Vernon grumbled, rolling over to crowd close. Transferring his head from the pillow to Seungkwan’s thigh, he wrapped arms around him and held him close, closing his eyes again.

 

Seungkwan’s heart thudded painfully. This time he didn’t hesitate to comb through the ruffled black locks, smoothing them down slowly. Instead of five minutes, he gave him fifteen, eyes focused on the slight gap in the curtains. Clearly, being grown up didn’t mean your heart was safe at all. Finally, patting him all the way awake, he slipped away to join his mother in the kitchen, ignoring her knowledgeable look as he sipped his now-cold tea. An hour later, with everyone dressed, he stood and dropped a kiss on her head. “Come on, Hansolie,” he directed. “Hanseung-ssi apparently waits for no man.”

 

As the day slowly grew they wandered through the warehouse his brother-in-law opened for them, armed with a pack of pink sticky notes, unable to decide where to begin.

 

“Do you have pictures of your house?” Hansol asked at his elbow, and murmured his thanks when he handed his phone over to swipe through his gallery. “I… oh, that’s a good photo of Channie, I should message him again. So you want everything?”

 

“Everything. I don’t even have carpets for the rooms.”

 

“Hmm.” Hansol nudged him to steer him away from the sleek, modern-looking chromed sofa he was looking at, ambling around and towards the back, where the furniture looked a little less modern, a little squishier. “You don’t want to go too modern with your vacation home,” he lectured. “You can put those into your Seoul apartment. This view is so good you’re going to want to design the room around it, probably with some long couches if you just want to crash there.”

 

Seungkwan stared at him. “How do you know?” he asked, amazed. “You sound like an interior decorator, Nonie.”

 

Hansol grinned down at him. “After Sofia got through university and started working, my mother decided she needed a side business, so she went into it. They’re really good. I guess I picked up things just from listening. If you had time, I would have said to hire them to come and do your house; my mother knows you, and she really likes this sort of whole-house thing. She’s constantly talking about themes and such.”

 

Seungkwan stared at him. It seemed to fit somehow; perhaps as he refurbished his house he could refurbish his life as well, take time out for his soul to heal. “It really is too empty, huh? Do you have her business number?” he asked. “I wouldn’t mind a project. That’s… if you want to join in. I had planned on spending a few months here in any case, before I decide what to move on to.”

 

“It’s as empty as my stomach,” Hansol muttered as he bent to look at one driftwood table’s price, eyebrows arching. “I’ll get you her number in a bit. Let’s talk about the other after a week, ok?”

 

Swallowing, Seungkwan nodded. “Okay. Let’s just get a few things and get to breakfast then.”

 

The morning turned out to be more enjoyable than he thought. They got the bare minimum of everything, from a long sofa that was the softest thing he had ever felt to two beds, extra-long. His brother-in-law gave them a good price on everything down to the linen and drove them over to his friend’s warehouse personally. At the end of three hours he had the beginnings of furniture: a hot-plate, a small bar stove that he could always use outside later on, a good sound system and a grill.

 

After fresh seafood for lunch, they made a last turn at the market for food before they wound back to the house. Seungkwan, jittery about sharing this part of himself, stayed silent as they hiked up the distance between the gate and the house, and opened the heavily-carved front door open to let his new guest through. Saying nothing, he took care of the grocery bags as Hansol wandered through the rooms, setting everything neatly on the island separating the large kitchen from the lounge. Grabbing two sodas, he left the rest to await the appliances, wandering out to meet his old friend by the large, open doors.

 

“I can see why you love it here,” Hansol said quietly as he took the beer, snapping the can open. “This place is literally you in the shape of a house.”

 

“Thanks,” Seungkwan muttered tentatively. “I hopped on this place like a madman when my mother told me it had come on the market. It nearly wiped me out for a year, but I love it so much. Look, if you go down there, you even have a private little cove. The water’s a bit lively, but it discourages the tourists from kayaking around, and the beach is gorgeous. Do you still swim?”

 

Hansol laughed. “Yes. Some asshole taught me the correct way of swimming years ago, and I’ve not looked back since.”

 

Sparing him an eye-roll, Seungkwan wandered outside. “We won’t be able to swim until we learn the tides here, and I’d like a professional to come out and check for rip currents or the like, but other than that you’re welcome to chill the whole day with that lo-fi you listen to. I don’t have any plans as such – I thought we could just see what happens every day? I mean…”

 

“Boo,” Hansol interrupted gently. “I’ll love it here, don’t worry. Do you have any suntan lotion?”

 

Slightly miffed – he knew he babbled when he was nervous – Seungkwan wandered to the bathroom to fetch the bottle, chucking it outside. “Use as much as you need!” he called. “I’m going to take a nap in here.”

 

When he came to, his head wasn’t on the suitcase shell anymore, but Hansol’s thigh, and he was shaking him gently. “Boo,” he murmured. “They’re starting to deliver the furniture. Come on, you can lie back down in a few hours.”

 

Seungkwan blearily watched from a corner as Hansol directed the movers to the two bedrooms they had chosen, then the lounge, and finally as he colluded with the sound technician that set the system up. He left his corner as they cleaned up and left, making sure the fresh food got from the chilled cooler bag into the small fridge, stuffing it to the brim before folding the bags up neatly. From there, he went to help Hansol who had apparently still not figured out which sheets were for which seasons, went to make his own bed, and went right back to sleep, somehow grumpy about nothing.

 

That evening, as the sun set, fingers stroking through his hair woke up. “Hey,” Hansol muttered. “Feeling better? You looked kind of cranky earlier.”

 

Seungkwan tried to wake up. “I don’t like that many people around me,” he muttered. “I don’t mind them, and god knows we’ve been plucked around by everyone, but not in my living space. Not after that once, when we caught the sasaeng in my bed.” It had been one of the most terrifying experiences of his life, and he had refused to sleep in his own bed for weeks, until his manager broke down and got him a new one. "It got worse over the years."

 

Hansol said nothing, but his touch turned gentler. “They delivered the grill too,” he finally said. “I’ve got the coals ready, I thought we could make that black pork you got earlier.” He paused. “If I’m going to be staying here for a bit, I’d like to contribute something too? I might not be as appallingly rich as you, but I’m not poor.”

 

Sitting up, Seungkwan gave a telling snort. “You have the most song-writing credits in our group after Jihoon,” he muttered. “All I did was get a good investment company. Trust me, poor isn’t what I thought you were.” He peeked past him, excitement blooming on his face as he looked at the patio. “Loungers? I had loungers all along?”

 

Hansol pulled him up straight. “You have a pool too, which you didn’t mention before. Around the edge, on the rest of the terrace? There was a small shed around that side of the house, and the loungers were inside. I pulled them out and set them up here. Thought we might eat out there tonight.”

 

“Chwe Hansol,” Seungkwan said feelingly. “You’re a fucking genius. Black pork and stars? Just tell me what I need to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. So, uh, apparently this went soft towards the end? And some history hints, and then there will be fireworks soon, I promise! 
>   2. Sasaeng fans are a wrong-bad experience. 
>   3. What's in Hansol's past to give him bad nights? 
>   4. The song for this chapter is SHINee's '[Tell Me What To Do](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dllF6eNCLI4&ab_channel=BlueBaek)' 
> 



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gracious @rainbow_osha has given me permission to post the moodboard that's inspiring this, so I'll include it at the end of the chapter -- just be warned if you're reading this in a public place, it does have a certain level of nudity on it.

Seungkwan stumbled from his bed late the next morning, feeling a hangover beat through his sinuses. They had gone from black pork and soda to soju, then the beers. Hansol had refused to join him for the bottle of red wine he dug up in the same shed as the loungers, so he had drunk the whole bottle alone. It had been rich and heavy, just like the feeling running through his body as they reminisced. By some miracle none of discussion had turned sour, and he had fallen asleep on the lounger.

 

Not before finding out that Seokmin was apparently on the verge of asking a girl to marry him, _good God_. He hadn’t even known he was dating, or that Seungcheol was seeing someone as well.

 

Now, out of reach of headache tablets, another hair of the dog that bit him or steaming hot coffee, he decided not to think of the fact that Hansol had likely carried him to bed. He was successful in that too, right until he stumbled into the corridor and came nose-to-sternum with a hard male chest. A naked hard male chest, with the rest of him clad only in a towel. Dumbfounded, half-trapped in his body, Seungkwan stared at the droplets of water still dripping from wet black hair, tracing the way they trailed down a strong neck and down, between pecs, rippling over the suggestion of abs, only to disappear in the towel’s edge.

 

_Well, ok, this is a step up. I don’t remember sasaengs looking like this._

 

The chest was talking to him, and the sound of Nonie’s baritone rumble yanked him back to the present. “…guh?” he got out elegantly. “What?”

 

Hansol smirked down at him. “I said sorry if I woke you. Did you sleep well?” He paused. “Is there something on my chest?”

 

 _No,_ Seungkwan’s uninhibited side offered helpfully. _But I wouldn’t mind being on it._

Seungkwan shut that train of thought off, horrified. Apparently post-drinking Seungkwan was a needy tramp who bitched because he hadn’t gotten any in far too long. But really, it was mostly Nonie’s fault for being so fucking hot. He had been really, really hot just cresting into his twenties, but this was ridiculous. “Ugh, no,” he said. “No, I feel as if there’s a tiny dokkaebi in my brain, bashing my sinuses with a brick.” He pushed past. “Nothing on your chest. That’s the point. Geeze, Nonie.”

 

Hansol didn’t have the decency not to laugh. Even though it was soft, it spiked into his brain insistently, and he fumbled his way clear to the kitchen and the medicine cabinet. Minutes later, fortified with two painkillers and a cup of his favourite tea, he jutted one hip and watched the scene out towards the beach. It was _beautiful_ today, soothing and serene with a minimum of wind. His gaze shifted as Hansol emerged again, dressed in a flowing sleeveless t-shirt and a pair of shorts, and thoughtfully watched his legs as he wandered out onto the patio.

 

Being attracted, especially with so much history between them, was no good. He bit the inside of his cheek and took another sip of tea. There hadn’t been many lovers in the three years since their argument. Even those affairs had been lacklustre, conducted out of the public’s eye, and tainted by old history. Random hook-ups mostly. God, he was tired of random hook-ups.

 

His hand trembled on the cup as he remembered the nights he had shared with Hansol. They had tried the dating thing on and off whilst they were idols, drifting apart and back together like binary stars caught in each other’s gravity. Up down, up down. He had tried to heal his heart with Mingyu, but that hadn’t worked either, and had inevitably petered back out into friendship. Up and down, until it affected the team and Seungcheol-hyung sat him down.

 

It wasn’t that it hadn’t been great. Even then, Hansol could rip his body apart and put him together better. People thought he was laid-back and chill. He was, but that translated to a terrifying kind of patience in bed. More than just their sex life, he had been Seungkwan’s constant lodestar, charting the course into the future. And then… and then…

 

He looked away and finished his tea, feeling marginally more like a human being. Making for the shower, he scrubbed everything clean and dressed in a pair of shorts as well, with an open shirt on over it. As he wandered out he grabbed the suntan lotion and went to brain Hansol with it. “Put it _on_ ,” he said. “Come on, I know your skincare routine is better than this.”

 

Hansol sighed and pulled his earphones out from where he had been filming the view, and took the lotion. “I’ll put it on down at the beach. Come on, I’ve already packed for us.”

 

Seungkwan blinked. He wasn’t quite sure where this new, organised Hansol came from. Nodding, he followed him down to the waterline and kicked his slides off, sticking his feet into the still-cool sand. It felt like magic against his toes. Before he thought about it clearly, he ripped his shirt off and ran into the ocean shouting like a savage, all so he could sink down right in the shallows and feel the cold water crash over him.

 

He cried a little bit in there, right there in the middle of the small waves, but when he turned to amble out again Hansol was looking at him with a huge smile on his face, and patting an orange towel the colour of hallabong. “Your querencia,” he said softly as Seungkwan did just that, and tossed another towel over his hair.

 

Seungkwan would have replied, but seconds later he felt a third towel drying his back before large, firm hands started spreading suntan lotion on his back. Hansol’s grip was almost punishing, but it felt good as he massaged the lotion in. His back turned to his arms, then his neck, before he felt him shuffling in behind him, legs around his. He reached to pat one knee awkwardly, no longer used to doing it, and relaxed back into his Nonie’s arms. Between the two of them, they got the rest of him covered in lotion, and somehow his day was saved. Another milestone without fighting, without raking up old troubles.

 

Feeling just a little brave, he wiggled away and pointed at the towel, one eyebrow arched and lips pouting slightly. He should have been irritated by Hansol’s eye-roll, but instead he grinned as the other stretched out on the towel on his stomach.

 

Hansol’s skin was very warm beneath his hands and his muscles defined, with a sleek waist; whatever he had been doing for the past three years it hadn’t been slacking off. He followed the curves of his shoulders, the deep line of his spine, even the taut muscles of his neck, until the man beneath him groaned softly. He scooted down, oiling up his waist, before he skipped his rear to continue to his legs and feet. There he took his time at least, and was damn proud of his handiwork until Hansol looked up, warm brown eyes dark with some emotion.

 

“Do you want to turn over so I can do your front as well?” Seungkwan offered, thumb playing with the cap of the lotion.

 

Hansol considered him, then obligingly turned over, resting an arm over his face.

 

Seungkwan felt gut-punched. He was _beautiful_ , but… wow. Okay, it had been some time since he saw a guy hard, longer still seeing Nonie that way, so it shouldn’t affect him like this, right? He said nothing about it, merely got on with his self-appointed task before he looked up to find Hansol looking at him. Emboldened, he creeped back up over him, eyebrows arched. “I hope I didn’t miss any spots, Nonie,” he murmured softly, sweetly, devilishly. “You know how I like to be perfect.”

 

Hansol’s hands settled on his hips and dragged him to straddle his waist. “I know how much you like making my mind go boom,” he said idly. “You always did like to… holy fuck, Kwan. Are you trying to kill me or something?”

 

Seungkwan, settling his ass right on top of Hansol’s hard-on, arched an eyebrow. “Not until you admit I did a perfect job,” he sniped teasingly. “I can’t have my reputation shot.” Very slowly, very idly, he rocked his hips, heedless of the danger of doing something like this in broad daylight with the man who broke his heart three years ago. Biting his lower lip, he tried not to grin. “Come on, say it. Say it!”

 

Hansol’s hands moved to his thighs, slowly persuading them open until Seungkwan sat fully entrenched on him. “You’ve always been perfect,” he whispered up at Seungkwan. “Your mind, your body, every bit of you. I…”

 

“Seungkwan-ah?” a voice shouted from the top of the cliff. “Hansol-ah? Are you guys here? Come and help me carry all this food, Eomma’s convince you’re starving!”

 

Seungkwan’s daydream shattered. Coming to his senses, he found himself grinding and practically riding poor Hansol, about five seconds away from tearing his shorts off and swallowing him. “Shit,” he cursed, slapping at Hansol’s hands. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I can’t… I didn’t expect… fuck!” He scrambled off, stole one of the towels and went running up the staircase to his sister, praying she hadn’t seen anything.

 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. Seungkwan has a 10/10 hangover. Guess who forgot to drink enough water afterwards. 
>   2. Idol skincare is no joke. 
>   3. A little bit more history, and a little spiciness. Lemme warn you guys that it's going to get hotter from here on; Seungkwan might be feeling like an idiot but Hansol certainly isn't. 
>   4. When you are in a Mood and people inconveniently invite themselves over. 
>   5. The song for this chapter is '[Pinwheel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aarBJqitCJE&ab_channel=SEVENTEEN)' by Seventeen. The way it talks about waiting for someone in the future, that fit so well with this fic. 
> 



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, there's some angst in here, just skip the chapter if it's not for you.

They don’t talk about what happened, not when they’re done carrying in the food, nor when they decide to take a walk around to the Resort Complex to the most hipster café Seungkwan had ever seen. It was only as they were settled in with the beach view in front of them, each with a cup of coffee that cost almost as much as it did back in Seoul, that Hansol broke the unspoken truce. “You know,” he murmured, coiling a packet of sweetener between his fingers. “It’s much more difficult to tell what the new Seungkwan is thinking. The old one had absolutely no problem telling everyone. What are you thinking, Boo?”

 

Seungkwan focused his eyes on the waves. “That I’m a fool?” he muttered. “If you look in the dictionary for the reference, it probably says ‘making out with old boyfriend where sister can see you.’ I’m really sorry. I pushed it too far again.”

 

“No problem,” Hansol said easily. “I was enjoying it.”

 

The ease with which he said it, the smile that curved into being, all conspired to nearly make Seungkwan spit out his coffee. “Stop saying things like that!” he whispered sideways. “I mean…”

 

“Excuse me,” a very chirpy voice came. They looked up to find a short woman there, dressed in the café’s outfit, but too old to be a waitress. “But are you Seungkwan-ssi and Vernon-ssi from Pledis’ old band Seventeen? Ah… may I have an autograph? I was such a big fan back in the day…”

 

“No problem,” Seungkwan said, feeling cognitive dissonance fade the edges of his world. “But after that…”

 

“Oh, no problem, I’ll make sure no one else bothers you! Do you want to move to the owner table? It has a better view, and it’s a bit more private…”

 

They took a photo with her at Hansol’s insistence, each with their arms around her as she stood in the middle, and autographed a menu for her before she chivvied them to the reserved table. It was true, it was a great deal more private, tucked in a nook with a view of the beach that didn’t have the lifeguard station in it, just a tiny stretch of clean sand. Seungkwan sunk down on his chair, shared one look with Hansol, and promptly burst out laughing, resting his head on the table. “Oh my goooosh, that was a flash to the past.”

 

Hansol laughed softly. “But she was so happy. Sometimes I miss all of us performing together, you know?”

 

“Sometimes I think we stopped promotions too quickly,” Seungkwan said quietly, propping his chin up on one hand. “But they wouldn’t come back, they have lives of their own now.” The idea sunk into his mind and he smiled, warmed by the thought of performing with the guys that had become as close as brothers so many years ago. “I really am sorry for what happened this morning. I didn’t invite you to get my rocks off. I thought I had gotten beyond reaching for everything that interested me.”

 

“Kwan,” Hansol said, reaching out to stop his mangling of a sugar packet. “Look at me.”

 

Hesitantly Seungkwan flicked his gaze over, first to the hand on his, then the warm brown eyes looking at him.

 

Hansol squeezed his hand. “No regrets,” he stated sternly. “We agreed to give ourselves seven days to heal. There were two of us on the beach, I could have stopped you if I wanted to. I didn’t want to. Okay? Of all the periods in our live I don’t want again, you getting wiggly about having sex with me is definitely one of them. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. Same-sex relationships are more common in the entertainment business these days. Didn’t one of your seniors get married to his boyfriend just this year somewhere? I remember the response being pretty positive.”

 

Seungkwan laughed. “Oh my god, yes, I remember! Dowoon-ssi. I sang at their wedding. Most of the fans outside were chanting ‘It’s about time! It’s about time!’ over and over. It was so funny, Nonie, and the two grooms laughed all the way up to the officiant. Although, speaking of stranger things, did you hear that they’re cancelling mandatory military service from next year? Apparently all those peace talks actually worked for once. Aish, why couldn’t they do that whilst I was still on the list? All those early mornings!”

 

“That’s right, they propped you into one of the active battalions? I still have that photo you tweeted with your new haircut.”

 

“Hm,” Seungkwan agreed. “About the only thing it was good for was getting rid of the last of my fat. I ran so much in full kit that I still have nightmares about it. Scratch that, I think if you blindfold me, I’d still be able to strip down a rifle and reassemble it. Is it odd to miss being that active? We should go and exercise or something – do you still like rock-climbing?”

 

“I love it,” Hansol stated. “I’m internationally certified, and there are some nice climbs here on Jeju if you want to try. Just not your cliffs, they’re too treacherous with sea spray. I wouldn’t feel comfortable taking a beginner up them. But I seem to recall you had some pretty soft hands, Kwan, aren’t you afraid of messing them up?”

 

Seungkwan looked left, looked right and cleared their table, putting their things on the windowsill. “Come on,” he said, pushing his right sleeve up on the spur of the moment. His fingers wiggled in the air. “Unless you’re afraid? Let’s just settle this right here, rock boy.”

 

Hansol burst out laughing and leant forward as well, hands clasping together. “Gonna count for us?” he teased. “Might as well give you a few seconds of dignity still.”

 

Counting, Seungkwan threw his all into the challenge. Hansol’s arm was like a rock and his grip way stronger than he remembered, but his was too, and his pride was stronger than any rock. Straining together, their arms wiggled back and forth, back and forth like a metronome ticking out slow ticks of time. He didn’t look at Hansol; he would lose if he did, because he was pretty sure there was some kind of silly face being done. Instead, pinching his grip in a little more tightly, feeling the muscles shift in his arm and back, he _pressed_ , trying to overcome Hansol’s bigger leverage.

 

He didn’t quite believe it when he won, Hansol’s fist slamming into the table with an audible thunk. “Cheat,” he accused glumly as he shook his hand to get life back into it. “How did I even win that? You have longer arms than I do.”

 

Hansol sat back to stare at him very directly. “I didn’t cheat. You won fair and square, Kwan. You’ve always won at whatever you set your mind to.”

 

Gobsmacked, Seungkwan stared at him, and resolved quietly to set his mind to Chwe Hansol again, just in case the business of second chances had an expiry date. He could feel his smile grow brilliant. The cold, icy scales around his heart were slowly softening, back in the ground that it belonged. “I’ll remember that,” he chirped, reaching for his coffee. “And I would love to go on a climbing date with you, or we could visit the zipline again? Or if we get up early enough, perhaps we can trek up Hallasan. Tomorrow? Or Friday perhaps?”

 

“I can’t on Friday,” Hansol muttered, looking away. “There’s somewhere I need to be.”

 

Blinking, Seungkwan tilted his head. “An appointment?” he teased. “A hot date? What could it be?”

 

Hansol shook his head. “Nothing as fun as that. It’s…” He took a deep sigh. “Look, it’s about my life the past three years. I can tell you, but please… just don’t fight with me about this? It’s the one topic that will kill me. Please.”

 

Seungkwan’s giddiness evaporated. Slowly, hesitantly he looked around before he reached to hold Hansol’s hands in his, swinging them in underneath the small table so that he could give them a slow, encouraging squeeze. “Go on,” he murmured.

 

“When we had our argument,” Hansol murmured, “I was very angry, and I was very stupid, and I jumped into a series of affairs like you wouldn’t believe. Men, women, it didn’t really matter, as long as I could fuck the memory of you out of my head. One of those times… well, neither of us were as careful as we should have been, and Jangmi got pregnant. It wasn’t something either of us had intended, and I didn’t know how to deal with it, but there was only one real answer. I got married to her; what kind of a man would I be if I didn’t take responsibility?”

 

“Oh my god,” Seungkwan whispered, feeling the space behind his breastbone ache. “Oh my god, oh my _god_ , Noni…”

 

Hansol shook his head, face remote and calm, but his hands were shivering in Seungkwan’s, holding on for dear life. “Things seemed fine. I mean… we adapted? It wasn’t really happy. Neither of us had _wanted_ a baby, or a relationship, but... hell. When I held Eunji the first time, somehow my mind just cleared?”

 

“Eunji? A little  girl?”

 

Hansol nodded wearily. “The most perfect little girl. For a year things seemed okay. I brought them down here for a holiday. Eunji started getting sick though, and Jangmi and I were frantic. I was out for some medicine when her temperature spiked and Jangmi panicked and got into a taxi to get to the hospital. On the way there, a stupid fucking drunk tourist that didn’t know what day it was, let alone which side of the road to drive on, hit them head on. There was really no chance of survival. All of them were dead on impact.”

 

It was the most horrible feeling, seeing his old love recite such a sad tale with such a remote voice, but Seungkwan understood. Unwillingly, he thought of what he had done, how petty and angry he had been, how many phones he had broken because he never received a text, and all the time Hansol had been suffering through this. One of the most fundamental hurts a person could have, and he had been _sulking_. “Nonie… god, Nonie, I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry. Did they bury them here? Is that what you have to go and do Friday?”

 

Nodding jerkily, Hansol pulled one hand away to swallow down his tepid coffee. “It’s Eunji’s birthday. I always visit her on her birthday.”

 

Seungkwan jumped out of his chair, uncaring about the rest of the café. “I would never fight with you on this,” he promised, hunkering down by Hansol’s side. “Never. I’ll go with you if you let me. I want to meet the people that healed your heart a little, Hansol.” He squeezed the strong, hard hand in his. “Come on, let’s go home, okay? You can tell me all about them there, I want to know everything.”

 

They did, and Hansol cried on his shoulder, cried so much he was worried, but he could understand that too. It was like a wound being lanced as he held and rocked him, soothing his back gently. That night, though nothing else happened, he pulled Hansol into his bedroom and spent the night watching over his sleeping form, trapped in memories of the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. So we get a look at what happened to Hansol in the three years they didn't talk. 
>   2. The song for this chapter is '[Forsake](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rdAO92BAoSc&ab_channel=seventeenlyrics)', a cover that Seungkwan did of a Big Mama song, I believe. 
> 



	6. Chapter 6

Early on the morning of their third day, with Hansol still sleeping the sleep of the dead beside him, he forced his tired eyes open and reached for his phone, calling his mother. “Eomma,” he murmured as she picked up. “He told me.”

 

He heard her sigh. “Seungkwanie… I wanted to tell you, but he asked me not to. It was such a bad time and he was confused, and stubborn. I’m glad that he told you.”

 

“Did you ever meet them? Eunji-ah and Jangmi-ssi?”

 

“Once, right before the accident happened. It was clear it wasn’t a happy marriage, but they both adored the little girl. She was like you, Seungkwanie, light made form. Afterwards… well, I go there every week, keep their graves clean for him. Once a year, when he visits, I put him up as well. You’re not angry, are you? That I did that?”

 

Seungkwan swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Of course not,” he muttered, turning sideways to get up and look at the sunrise over the water. “Eomma, I think… I think I still love him? It’s confusing.”

 

“Seungkwan,” she muttered. “Do you remember how afraid you were that time that you came out? Because you thought we would be ashamed? Do you still remember what I told you then?”

 

“The heart wants what the heart wants,” he chanted. “I remember.”

 

“You have always made your parents very proud,” she lectured. “From the time that you left to Seoul to start singing to this day. It was easy to see where your heart would lodge. He’s a good man, my son. If you two could mend the rift between the two of you, it would make me so happy. Your sister’s given me enough grandchildren, so don’t even worry about that. All I want, all I have ever wanted was your happiness. If he makes you happy, then good.”

 

Seungkwan blinked the tears in his eyes away. He wasn’t quite sure what he said in goodbye, but his heart felt as light as the birds outside that plunged from the cliffs only to leap back into the sky. Wiping his cheeks, he slipped the phone back on the bedside table and went to take a shower to start the day. It was over an hour later, just as he warmed up the last of the breakfast banchan, that a pair of strong arms slipped around his waist and Hansol hugged him, tight for a moment before his hold gentled.

 

“Thank you,” he whispered roughly into Seungkwan’s nape, shivering the soft hairs there. “Thank you, Kwanie.”

 

Seungkwan turned his head a little to smile. “No problems!” he said happily, holding out a bit of kimchi rice on chopsticks, watching Hansol nibble it down. “But you’re going to have to hurry! I want to go to a flower shop today and make sure they make the biggest, best bouquet of flowers for tomorrow. Your girls are my girls now too, okay? We’re gonna go there so that I can thank them.”

 

Hansol chewed thoughtfully at the rice, swallowing before he nodded. “You’re the best, Kwan,” he muttered as he walked away, smacking Seungkwan’s ass in parting. “I’ll be out in fifteen minutes, okay?”

 

 _Building bridges,_ Seungkwan thought. _Let’s build bridges instead of burning them down. I wonder what the others might say…?_

 

* * *

 

 

True to his word Seungkwan bought the biggest bouquet he could when they got to the flower shop, startling the poor attendant by sneaking in just after she opened the door. There was no rhyme and reason to it, he didn’t want it to be structured and formal. Instead, they discussed putting together something with wildflowers and cultivated flowers, the kind of thing a little girl might love, whilst Hansol browsed their picture book silently. After that came a toy shop, from which he liberated a big, fluffy lamb, feeling rewarded by Hansol’s tiny smile.

 

“Kwan,” he murmured. “It’s lovely, but it’s not even going to fit onto the grave. I… stop buying stuffed animals, okay? That’s fifteen already. Can’t we go and give these to kids at the hospital instead, like we used to do with all the stuffed toys the fans gave us? I think they’d appreciate it more.”

 

The kids did appreciate it, as did the nurses, and afterwards they wandered down the street eating ice cream. It felt like nothing at all when Hansol took his hand, a mere breeze, but they wandered together like that all the way towards the bike-for-hire rack, choosing to cycle around Hallasan and back to the resort, leaving the bikes there before trekking the few kilometres back to the house. Their hands parted at the doorway, with Hansol heading into the lounge to put on some music and Seungkwan? Seungkwan bit his lip as he considered and toyed with the idea in his head, and finally headed out to the side of the house where the empty pool was, sitting on its step as he made a call.

 

The voice on the other side was old and familiar, running down his back like the feeling of friendship and honey. “Seungcheol-hyung,” he murmured, and it was all he could do not to start laughing giddily. “Seungcheol-hyung, do you even know who’s calling now?”

 

“As if I wouldn’t remember my favourite dongsaeng’s voice,” Seungcheol teased him over the miles separating them. “Long time no speak, Seungkwan-ah, how are you, how is your life? You’re still healthy, right? I saw you on that program not so long ago, you seemed healthy.”

 

“I’m healthy,” he promised. “I’m no longer on the program, hyung. My contract ended. And I heard that someone is dating these days? Is it someone famous? You always joked about marrying all our Carats and how they should keep their ring fingers open, did you finally settle down on one?”

 

Seungcheol’s laughter was just as loud as always. “Aish, Seungkwan-ah, no, she was never a Carat. No, you wouldn’t know her, I met her at a business dinner. And you? Where are you now? What are your plans?”

 

Seungkwan cleared his throat. “I’m in Jeju, hyung,” he said slowly. “With Hansol. We’re… talking.”

 

“Finally,” Seungcheol groaned. “I gave up after a while. I’m so happy you pulled your head out of your ass, Seungkwan-ah.”

 

“Well, hyung, I have a big head and a very round face, it took me a while to work it out of there,” Seungkwan teased. “And as to plans… mmh. I have the most ludicrous plan, hyung. It’s stupid and it’s so wonderful, and practically impossible. Hyung, we all flew apart like thistledown. I think it might work. Just… just once, so I can see my brothers again. I wanted to phone you first, because you have such a busy schedule, and to get everyone’s numbers. I know you have them, right?”

 

Seungcheol sighed. “Seungkwan-ah… what you’re asking is practically impossible, you know that, right?” he said very gently. “I have everyone’s numbers, yes, but there’s no way I can see this working.”

 

Seungkwan tilted his head up at the sky and thought about what Hansol said, about what happened if he put his mind to something. “Hyung,” he said, holding on to that thought for courage. “Leave that to me. Just think of the stage, hyung, and how you used to stalk on it, and the people screamed their heads off for you.”

 

“I’ll think about it,” Seungcheol promised. “Say hello to Hansol for me, okay? I’ll send you the numbers. Did he…”

 

“Yes,” Seungkwan muttered. “Yes, he told me.”

 

“Take care of his heart this time.”

 

“You got it, hyung.”

 

Wandering back into the house, he found Hansol chilling on the couch, listening to a soft, smooth song with a strangely boppy beat. He curled up next to him like a cat, back braced against the sofa’s arm and legs tossed over his lap, sinking sideways to press his head into the pillow.

 

Hansol didn’t complain. Instead, he merely lifted his hands and arranged Seungkwan’s legs for a little more comfort, propping his phone up on them afterwards.

 

“Hey,” Seungkwan muttered. “Can you send me your mother’s business number? I want them to come out and have a look at the house.”

 

“Can it wait?” Hansol murmured, looking sideways at him. “I want to have you to myself just a little bit longer.” One hand settled on Seungkwan’s calf, rubbing back and forth slowly before tickling into the sensitive hollow behind his knee. “I really don’t want to share you, not for several days yet. Your family deserves a chance with you too, but I…”

 

Seungkwan smiled at him as he interrupted. “I’m all yours.”

 

Hansol considered him before he leant to put his phone on the floor, then took Seungkwan’s phone as well, putting it in the same place. In one smooth motion he turned so that they were both laying along the couch, with his body pressing Seungkwan down into the fluffy depths. Gently, so very gently, he kissed the corner of his mouth, then one cheekbone, before he reached up to pull the pouty lower lip open with his thumb and kiss him for real.

 

Seungkwan murmured as he fell into the kiss and his arms snuck around Hansol’s broad shoulders. They had done this so many times that it felt comfortable and good and exciting, and he fell headlong into it with the biggest grin on his face.

 

“Stop laughing,” Hansol murmured against his mouth. “You’re making me think I’m doing something wrong.”

 

“Maybe you are,” Seungkwan teased, so absurdly attracted that he couldn’t stop grinning.

 

Hansol lifted his head, looked at him with dark eyes and reached down to rake one of Seungkwan’s thighs up around his waist, just so that he could settle in the cradle of his legs. Slowly, with all the time in the world, he lazily brushed his hips down, pressing his hardening length along the seam of Seungkwan’s jeans, letting him feel every last, slow rutting surge. “Kwanie,” he murmured, fingers biting into the thigh he held captive. “Do you remember that fifth tour of ours, when we were pressed into that tiny taxi?”

 

Seungkwan shuddered and closed his eyes at the feeling, legs spreading wider and wider, one hooked over the back of the sofa, one around Hansol’s waist, all so he could feel those slow, dragging rolls of Hansol’s hips. “I remember,” he barely got out. “We were so tired and scheduling had fucked up with the van, and I had to sit on your lap with our luggage on the roof.”

 

“And do you remember what happened?”

 

Seungkwan’s cheeks pinked as he panted, eyes slowly opening to look down up at Hansol’s. “You… I rubbed against you the whole way, and forced you to cum in your pants and I laughed. And when we got to the room you made me lick you clean and go down on you, and you didn’t let me cum for two nights.”

 

Hansol’s smile turned small and private. “So what makes you think if you grin like that at me now I won’t do the same thing, baby?” His teeth sunk into Seungkwan’s lower lip, pulling it out before releasing it. “I don’t mind you laughing at me in public, or making jokes at my expense, or flittering about all over the show. Just as long as you know you’re going to pay for it later on.” Idly, sitting up, he undid Seungkwan’s belt and zip, edging his fingers into the jeans’ waistband. “Do you know how long it’s been since I saw my favourite part of you?”

 

Seungkwan had to fight not to laugh again, because Hansol was wiggling his eyebrows even as he yanked his pants down. He had to lift his hips, but when they got wrestled off his calves and feet along with his underwear he turned over obediently, arms resting on the couch’s arms as he got to his knees. “Better?” he asked over his shoulder.

 

“Oh my god,” Hansol muttered behind him, and trailed firm hands up his thighs, clasping his butt reverently. “How does it look even better now than the last time we did this?”

 

“Stairmaster,” Seungkwan teased. He wiggled just a little, watching Hansol’s eyes daze at the shimmy. “Nonie,” he teased, voice sweet as treacle, as he gave another shimmy. “Nonie… hey, come on. Come back to me.”

 

Still in a daze, Hansol leant down to press his lips against one smooth, perfect curve of it, pinching a tiny fold of flesh between his teeth and sucked at it. As he sat back the skin bloomed pink-rose and Seungkwan was gasping. He rubbed his thumb into the bruise, encouraged it to grow a little, until it was a perfect little mark. Another one followed, then another one into the soft, firm flesh. “You’re so perfect, Kwan,” he whispered into them. “Still so perfect after all these years.” He cupped one cheek, tapped it gently before insinuating his finger into the crease between the cheeks, pulling one slowly away.

 

Seungkwan shivered and closed his eyes. It had been so long; he felt exquisitely turned on. The feeling curled all the way down his legs to his toes. “Nonie,” he murmured. “We can’t… I don’t have anything here.”

 

“Shhhh,” Hansol murmured into his flesh. “It’s okay.” Sitting back, he pulled Seungkwan onto his lap so that his back faced the long window, hands moving to strip his shirt off. His own shirt joined the pile, but he made Seungkwan splay his naked thighs out over his lap as he was, widening jeans-clad thighs afterwards to pull him fully open. “The first time,” he promised. “We’ll go down to the beach and I’ll take you on a blanket as the sunlight spills around you.” His fingertips traced up Seungkwan’s arched back, pressing into the furrow of his spine. “Just us, and the sea.”

 

Seungkwan whined as he slowly worked his hips back and forth, gyrating them slowly. Hansol’s jeans whispered against his sensitive thighs, made him want to tear them off and take him without any preparation whatsoever. “Nonie…” he drawled. “Nonie, oh my gosh…” The images tortured him, turned his spine the quicksand. Biting his lower lip, he swallowed. “Please, I want that so much. It’s been so long.”

 

Hansol smiled softly at him, pressing another kiss against his cheek as his hands cupped his butt. “Tomorrow,” he whispered. “Tomorrow, I promise.” Slowly, intently, he moved them over and around, digging his thumbs into the sensitive skin between thigh and crotch, massaging slowly there. It had always been one of Seungkwan’s spots, and now he watched as it made his man’s eyelids flutter. His moan, deep in that talented throat, sounded throbbing and low, making Hansol grin. “You’re still such a little exhibitionist, Kwan,” he teased. “Sitting here all naked and squirming. You still get off on the feeling of someone seeing you.”

 

Mind spinning, Seungkwan panted. Old memories flooded him, of Hansol’s hand down the back of his pants during a live, slowly working him open. Of the way he had sucked him off on that Kota Kinabalu beach, with only the night to shield them. Of the feeling of dancing on stage, knowing that if he wasn’t very careful and precise, the fans might see a flash of lace, because instead of boxers he wore a tiny scrap of silk that made his Hansol go wild. Gasping, he pulled away and scrambled back off his lap, shoving Hansol’s legs open wide as he kneeled down to get to his cock.

 

Hansol slowly petted Seungkwan’s hair as the older man desperately clawed at his zip, practically tearing it. “Careful, baby,” he murmured, and it was enough to make the hands steady. He swallowed as his man reached in to liberate his cock, allowing it to thump hard and strong against his belly. He was ridiculously turned on, already leaking, and something warm clenched at his heart as he saw Seungkwan’s delicate hands shaking as they wrapped around it.

 

Gently, very gently, Seungkwan leant in to tickle with his tongue-tip against the underside of the fat head, teasing the rim there. It tasted sweet and salty at once, especially when he flicked up to dig his tongue in the little slit there. That earned him a pleased grunt, which made his lips curve into a smile. Smoothly, because he knew every twitch and curve of this man by now, he opened his mouth and slowly sunk down, swallowing and moaning. He had never been able to take the whole thing; his throat was his life, but he didn’t care this time. Instead, leaning forward, he craned his neck, working for it, until he felt the full length of it thick and hot in his mouth, pushing through into his throat.

 

Hansol cursed, head slamming back against the sofa’s back. After so long, there was nothing that compared to the smooth silk of his Kwanie’s mouth, and his insides tightened as he finally sunk all th way in. So long, it had been _so long_ , that there was nothing more on his mind other than the mouth working him so perfectly. It was only years of frustration and practice that allowed him to hold off from spilling like a little boy. “Kwan,” he groaned, reaching forward to pat his distended cheeks, his hair, to lock his legs around his kneeling form. “That’s it, baby. Just like that. Oh god, you’re so perfect,” he murmured.

 

Seungkwan felt his dick jump at the sweet words. He had always had a praise kink; to hear Hansol praise him now was like the sweetest candy, and he redoubled his efforts. Sucking powerfully, breathing through his nose, he soon fell into a rhythm. It sounded lewd and wet, sopping with his saliva and Hansol’s precum. The fingers petting him made him feel even better, and he eagerly worked for his reward, all the way until Hansol’s fingers tightened in his hair and pulled him back, forcing him off his cock with a wet pop.

 

“Nonie…” he groaned, swallowing and licking his lips, so hard he felt he’d cum any second himself.

 

“Last chance,” Hansol whispered. “If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, use those pretty hands of yours, Kwan. Choose, baby.”

 

Forcing his eyes open, he looked up at Vernon, admiring the way lust had darkened his eyes. He sunk back a little on his thighs. “I want it in my mouth, please,” he asked hoarsely, and reached up to tap on his tongue. “Right here, please, fill my mouth ok? Please Nonie.” He knew what those words normally did, saw the jerk of Hansol’s body, and suddenly he had a cock in his mouth again, spilling and spilling, plugging up his mouth so he had to swallow. Moaning at the feel of it, he did just that, hands shaking on Hansol’s knees.

 

“That’s it, baby,” Hansol whispered, gently massaging at his Boo’s throat with his thumbs. “That’s it, shhh, take it all…”

 

Seungkwan did just that, drinking and gulping, swallowing until every last drop went down his throat. Panting for breath, he shuddered, leaning forward submissively to lick his Nonie’s cock clean. He took his time, paying little attention to the tight, straining pulse of his own cock, until he could finally sit back on his haunches, pleased and more than halfway gone.

 

“Beautiful, baby,” his lover praised him gently, pulling him back onto his lap to kiss his panting mouth. Softly, like the most delicate breeze, he started fisting him, hot and tight and hard, until he spilled all over his belly. “So very, very beautiful,” Hansol murmured into the curve of his neck as he held him through the aftershock. “You’re still so goddamn perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. Seungkwan has an idea! Will he manage to get everyone back for a reunion? 
>   2. The song for this chapter is Woozi's '[Simple](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZZB_bElCVgA&ab_channel=H%C6%B0%C6%A1ngLy).' 
> 



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> euphoria (juːˈfɔːrɪə)  
> \-- noun
> 
> 'a feeling or state of intense excitement and happiness.'

Seungkwan slept better than he had in the past year and a half, curled into a ball with Hansol curled around him. He woke last this time and didn’t open his eyes at first. Instead, he rolled onto his back and stretched, pinching his eyes shut at the light coming from the huge bedroom windows. He could feel relaxation curl in his limbs as he remembered the past day. They had fooled around a lot, a _lot_ , from the lounge to the bathroom to here in the bed they now shared. Idly, adjusting his countdown on the week of healing another day upwards, he sighed softly.

 

No hangover this time, and no sound from the shower; grimacing at the taste in his mouth, he went to take advantage of that, scrubbing with water as hot as he could take it. For the first time since he came here he was careful with his morning routine, making sure his skin looked perfect, adding just a little liner. From there he padded naked to the closet and poked around his clothes until he found the nicest clothes he had brought along. The suit was very light-weight, made from a grey silk, and he paired it with a white shirt and pink tie, making sure to give his shoes a brush.

 

Looking at himself in the mirror after he dressed, he carefully combed his hair back in a side parting and sallied forward to meet the day. He found Hansol dressed in the lounge staring out at the view. “Jeju Jeju, land of the four three, ocean of regret…” he rapped as his body swayed to and fro to an imaginary beat.

 

Seungkwan swallowed as he listened to the melancholy words. Hansol’s healing wouldn’t come overnight, nor would his, but he fancied they had taken the first steps, and the music proved it. It was something not everyone understood. Musicians weren’t just singing pre-arranged verses. It had to resound in your heart or your performance would be sub-par. It had been one of the reasons he gave up performing a few years back. The songs didn’t resound in his being anymore, he had thought back then.

 

Clearing his throat, he dialled for an Uber and went to wait outside, giving Hansol his moment. That was another lesson he had had to learnt, and was still learning. No matter how much you loved your significant other, there had to be some space in your relationship.

 

It was a very quiet taxi that took them first to the flower-shop and then smaller island cemetery. It was quiet and lovely in the morning, surrounded by groves of citrus trees. Hansol led him through the rows until he came to what looked like a back corner. There was a small plot there, a single marker engraved with two names.

 

_Lee Jangmi. Chwe Eunji._

His throat closed as he hung back a little, letting Hansol hunker down.

 

“Hello loves,” Hansol said easily, cleaning little bits of grass off from the stone. “Jangmi-ah, Eunji-ah, I’m back again for another year. So much has happened, and this time I brought someone along, okay? Not just Jwa-eomeonim any longer.” He reached behind him to pull Seungkwan closer. “This is Seungkwan, a very important man in my life. Once upon a time we performed together.”

 

Seungkwan cleared his throat as he stepped forward and bowed deeply. “Lee Jangmi-ssi, Eunji-ah, it’s my honour to meet you finally,” he said as he handed the bouquet to Hansol so that he could sink down into a full, supplicative bow. “Thank you for looking after him when I wasn’t able to. I regret that I didn’t know you whilst you were still alive.” Straightening, he dusted dew and grass off the knees of his suit. “I have some stories about him that you might not know…”

 

“Boo,” Hansol warned laughingly.

 

He darted a quick smile at him before he sunk down into a hunker and told them the story of Chwe Hansol the boy. How he had grown up, funny stories, nothing too serious. He helped Hansol settle the bouquet securely in the vase for that purpose, and then he wandered away a little bit to let Hansol say his goodbyes. It had only been an hour when he checked, but he felt as if a weight had been lifted off his chest as he saw Hansol wander out to meet him, shoulders straight.

 

“Come on,” he said, smiling. “Eomma’s made us lunch.”

 

* * *

 

Seungkwan left the business of buying condoms and lube to Hansol; he knew what he preferred, and it gave him time to make another call. Pulling up the list of numbers from the list Seungcheol-hyung sent him and decided to phone the biggest ally he would have in this whole crazy business. He peeked around, ducked behind a row of cards and waited for Soonyoung-hyung to pick up.

 

“Hello?” His voice sounded harried and a little out of breath, as if he’s been dancing frenetically. “Who is this?”

 

“Hyung?” Seungkwan said. “Hyung, it’s me, Seungkwan. Boo Seungkwan?”

 

He had to pull his phone away from his ear as his hyung dropped the phone with a great clatter, noisy as he scooped it back up again.

 

“Seungkwan-ah!” Soonyoung called, loud and exuberant. “I wasn’t expecting a call from you! It’s been ages since I heard your voice, you sound a bit hoarser! How’s your health? You didn’t take up smoking, did you? That’ll ruin your voice! Just wait until I tell Jihoonie that you called, he’s going to be so happy! You should hear him moaning about the quality of singers these days, that they can’t reach like you and Seokmin…”

 

Seungkwan nibbled his lip not to laugh. If anyone would understand why his voice was hoarse, it would be Lee Jihoon. “Hyung!” he interrupted. “Hyung, oh my gosh, I’m fine, I’m free… listen, I don’t have much time, but I’m going to phone you tonight, okay? I want to get the group back together, I’m trying to speak to everyone. We deserve it, hyung, even if it’s for one last time! Just think about it, okay? I’ll call you tonight and add this number to a new chat group, is that okay?”

 

Soonyoung’s enthusiasm radiated over the line. “Seungkwanie! Of course! That would be so fucking fantastic, I’ve missed the stage so much, I’ve missed you guys so much! Add me, we have to start talking immediately, I’m going to tell Jihoonie, okay? You have to give him time to get used to it and let the songs bite in his mind if you want him in. Don’t worry. I’ll work on him, you just get the others!”

 

“Will do, hyung! Bye bye!” Seungkwan managed barely before Hansol came looking for him, and he gifted him with an innocent smile”

 

“You’re planning something,” Hansol accused easily. “I know that look.”

 

Seungkwan hid his smirk coyly behind his phone. “It’s for healing,” he promised.

 

Hansol tilted his head, considered him for a long time before he smiled and lifted the plastic bag, wiggling it. “Ready for another kind of healing? The beach awaits, I think.”

 

Flushing, Seungkwan grinned. “I’ll race you there!”

 

* * *

 

For all their promises, for all Seungkwan’s day-dreaming about their new first time, for all his desire to storm the beach like a bull, it didn’t work out nearly that way. Instead, they went past the market first for food and Hansol laughed at him as he visited five ritzy shops to get the brand of suntan lotion he preferred. When they finally got back home it was just about noon, and even if Seungkwan had been willing to go out, Hansol put his foot down.

 

“The sun’s going to fry you if we go out now,” he said as they unpacked, slowly stuffing food into the small bar bridge. “You taught me that, Kwan. There’s even an old English saying about it, about only mad dogs and Englishmen going out when it’s this hot.”

 

Seungkwan pouted.

 

“Come on, I’ll make you some ramen instead.”

 

“Nooooo,” Seungkwan pouted even more. “Do you know how that makes my face swell?”

 

Hansol laughed and laughed, turning to back-hug him. “Is that you saying that you don’t have any ramen and go skills?” he teased, kissing Seungkwan’s ear very gently. “Because I beg to differ. And okay, I won’t make you ramen. How about just some fruit salad since we’re going to have that heavy meal tonight?”

 

Still sulking a bit, Seungkwan nodded and collected a kiss, grabbing their bags along the way to put stuff away.

 

“Leave the lube and condoms on the sofa and come back,” Hansol called out behind him.

 

Seungkwan’s steps hitched at the promise in those words and he very quietly returned the bag, then went to shower. Suddenly his day wasn’t looking so bad at all.

 

When he came back, refreshed and clad in a robe, he plonked down on the sofa to watch Hansol finish the last of the preparations, and stared at what was already on the sofa’s tiny little table: plates of fruit neatly cut up, citrus honey from the bees on the island, a canister of whipped cream he hadn’t even noticed, and something that looked like Nutella but certainly wasn’t, not if he looked at the picture of bodies on them.

 

Okay, his rapper had _plans._

 

Hansol leant over the back of the sofa with the last of the stuff (pineapple smoothies and grapes?). “I’m going to go and take a shower as well. Back soon. Don’t start without me, okay?”

 

“No promises,” he murmured towards his retreating back, but behaved himself. It was the work of moments to get a chat group formed and add Soonyoung-hyung’s number to it, as well as the information that he had just spoken to him and Seungcheol-hyung so far, and would add numbers in as he did. They spent a few minutes texting and sending photos, one of the back of Jihoon’s ultraviolet-blue head, one of the view in front of him and pretty soon he was lost in the give and take of it, only dropping the phone when Hansol returned, naked as the day he was born.

 

Seungkwan swallowed as he looked at his lover. His body hadn’t changed much over the years, save extra strength through his back and shoulders and legs; he was still tall and lean, he was still handsome as hell, still had the power to make his breath disappear. The first time they had done this, he had stood just as he was standing now, letting Seungkwan take his fill. Then it had been about reassuring and addressing his fear about the difference in their bodies. Now it was to show him that he still trusted him. Swallowing, he undid his robe and stood, slipping into Hansol’s embrace for a long hug.

 

They ended up on the couch with Seungkwan serving as Hansol’s plate, little morsels of fruit stuck to his skin with honey, or cream, or the body spread. His toes curled and shivered as he felt him nip them off slowly, taking time to chew and eat. Every so often, he leant closer to share the fruit with Seungkwan, allowing him bits of melon and crisp apple with honey, or slices of Jeju hallabong. It tickled and aroused, and he laughed out loud several times, especially when Hansol attempted to drink his fruit smoothie from Seungkwan’s navel.

 

The afternoon passed slowly, gently sweet. With all their fooling around the day before, Seungkwan didn’t feel the need to rush, and was content to simmer a little, to anticipate, to enjoy the patience that it took for this kind of play. His whole body was being praised, from the lean line of his collarbones to his strong throat, from the beginning of abs to the arch of his feet. Hansol licked cream off a nipple, sucked it from the hollow of one knee, until he felt loved, utterly perfect.

 

He blinked as Hansol pulled away to pull him up straight, handing him the bag of toiletries as he took the towels, and slowly they walked out into the later afternoon sun. Seungkwan shivered at the wind that curled gently around him, cooling the wet places on his body, but he trusted Hansol enough to follow him down the steps to the beach, no longer in need of squinting against the sun’s rays as it was behind them. The golden sand was still warm, warm enough that he had to hurry quickly to the spot set up for them, with a beach umbrella for their faces and long light-blue towels for their bodies.

 

“I’ve often thought about doing it here,” he murmured as he sank down next to Hansol, digging around for the new bottle of suntan lotion. Slowly, concentrating on every inch of his skin, he oiled him up as he reminisced. Long strokes over his arms, firm pressure down his back, until his lover gleamed like a statue. “But it felt wrong, you know? Someone else would have disturbed this place. I didn’t want to sit here later and look up at these cliffs and regret showing them to anyone like that.”

 

Hansol leant forward to rest his neck on his knees, allowing it to relax under lotion-slick fingers. “And now?” he mumbled.

 

“And now I look at you and I think of my house, the way it’s scoured clean by sunlight and wind like these cliffs, and I think I would be poorer if your soul didn’t echo in there as well,” Seungkwan said frankly. “I know we agreed to wait a week, but I wanted to say that. Whatever happens.” He cupped Hansol’s neck with his palm, massaging it slowly. “So I’m okay with you seeing them.”

 

Hansol murmured something, biting his lip to keep from getting emotional. Seungkwan had always been the one that took care of that aspect. He grabbed the bottle and motioned for him to lie down on his back, moving to slowly slick him up. It felt too real, with Seungkwan’s still-round face and half-lidded eyes so in the open, but he pressed on, tried not to feel his heart soften as he slowly turned him into something that could withstand the sun a little. First the front, then the back, slowly and smoothly, until he ghosted one hand over a full cheek and palmed it aside a little.

 

Seungkwan was clean and fresh, smelling like soap and the citrus honey of earlier, and he dug one-handed for the lube as he leant in to kiss his pucker gently. It tightened with a shiver, then relaxed again as his lover gave a long sigh. “Up on your knees,” he whispered, and watched the cheeks flex and pull as Seungkwan obeyed. Hands still slick, he worshipped his butt, long moments of making sure every inch was covered and loved and kissed, until he pulled the lube closer and started to prep him.

 

Head hanging down, Seungkwan couldn’t stop the shivers that racked his body. Hansol’s fingers were long and patient, taking their time to play and stretch and make sure he adapted. His back arched as one fingertip skimmed his prostate, crooking deliciously to tease and play with it. “Nonie…” he murmured, shimmying and receiving a reproof for it. “Nonie, that’s too much.”

 

“Shh,” Hansol replied. “My ass, my playtime. Hush your mouth.”

 

Fighting a smile, Seungkwan hushed his mouth and concentrated on the feelings as his eyes fluttered shut. Long minutes of playing, until he was wet and juicy and slick with the lubricant, until there was no more sting from the fingers stretching him, just pleasure that crested and disappeared like the waves behind them. Throughout, he felt kisses pressed to his butt, little whispers of praise, and the occasional bite if he felt like being naughty and moving too much. When Hansol finally pulled back, thumb wiping the excess lubricant up and down his crack, he felt as if a stiff wind would crest him over into a climax, legs shaking and weak.

 

He heard the sound of the condom being opened, heard Hansol’s hiss as it went on, and rolled over on his side to watch him fight the latex onto one of the best sights he’d seen on a beach. “Are you sure you haven’t grown just a little bit?” he teased, reaching out to help roll the condom down.

 

“You’re a menace,” Hansol growled as he finished, smacking his hand away. “Stop that. I want to fuck you like you deserve, Kwan, not come in five minutes like a boy.”

 

“If memory serves,” he said wickedly, “the first time in my ass you only lasted three and a half.”

 

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that,” Hansol promised as he crawled closer, tickling fingertips down his belly. “You’re so mouthy, Kwan, your mouth gets you into so many bad situations.”

 

Seungkwan rolled on his back to welcome Hansol’s body over his, legs parting happily and arms reaching for him hungrily. “And good ones,” he promised, pulling them flush together, loving the feel of Hansol’s sunlit body pressing him against the heat of the sand through the towel. Forgiven, if the kiss against the corner of his mouth said anything, he lifted his hips to welcome Hansol home, nails clenching on the strong muscles of his back at the smooth, hard slide. He was pushed open, stretched, filled until he arched his back with a warbling cry of pleasure; Hansol’s cock slipping into him after three years of heartbreak and pain was the best thing ever.

 

He felt short of breath, almost panicked, and clung to him as he was forced to adjust by slow, minute little jabs into him. “Nonie,” he shuddered, seeing a tear-wet landscape of blue-blue sky and black cliffs through slitted eyes, “Nonie, please please… oh god, please!”

 

Hansol laughed softly against his shoulders, reached down to fist his quivering cock and hummed with pleasure. “You know,” he teased. “If you’re too loud, they’re going to hear you on the other side of those cliffs?” His body stilled and he sat up despite the desperate cling of Seungkwan’s arms, reaching into the bag again. “This isn’t good, Kwan, you’re almost there already?”

 

Seungkwan wanted to protest, wanted to deny that just maybe, he was a little too turned on by the possibility of people hearing, but he snapped to as he felt something close around the root of his cock, tight and restraining and still cool. He looked down, eyes widening. “You put a cock ring on me?” he asked, vocal pitch climbing with astonishment. “You motherfu…” Interrupted by a hard jab into his depths, he gasped, arched his back from the solid feel of it.

 

“Just be patient,” Hansol murmured as he set up a slow pace. “Don’t you remember how it used to feel?” He leant back a little, made Seungkwan pull up one leg tight to his chest and helped to roll him over, almost to the edge of the towels. “Much better,” he approved, patting one hip as Seungkwan stretched out on his side. Slowly, very slowly, he fell back into that pace again, taking his time. “It’s been three years, Kwan,” he murmured, cruelly wrapping one hand around Seungkwan’s smaller cock to tug and play with it. “What made you think that I don’t want to make up for lost time?”

 

Seungkwan’s mind hazed, trapped in heat. It was too much from the sunlight, the slow meted pistoning into him, the hard hand tugging at his cock. Everything burned with pleasure, but the ring stopped him from falling over the edge, kept him balanced right at the precipice of it.

 

Hansol fucked him on his back, his front, his sides; he fucked him bent into an improbable arch, fucked him slow and stead, hard and fast, until he felt like putty, body not his any longer. It belonged to the man that made it his playground, that knew from long experience how far to push, where he liked it, how much it could take. In the end, as the tide came in just enough to lap at their feet, his moans and pleas, his abject begging ringing loud into the air, Hansol pushed his knees apart as far as they would go and reared over him, cock continuously twitching and teasing, almost brutal but not quite.

 

One moment he lay on the earth, and in the next he soared as Hansol removed the cock ring, tossing it up to the bag before reaching to pull Seungkwan’s cheeks apart as far as they would go, riding him through the last with quick, desperate pulses. Seungkwan felt like a perfect melding of that moment, warmed inside and out by the man he had never quite fallen out of love with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. So they finally have their 'first' time! 
>   2. The song for this chapter is '[Euphoria](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oz5biQdM6bc&ab_channel=HamtaroGasa) from BTS' Love Yourself: Wonder. 
> 



	8. Chapter 8

The waves roared in the night, thrashing ceaselessly against the cliffs below the house, until they woke Seungkwan up with their noise. Beyond that ever-present muted thunder, the night was still and dark in the room, with only the slightest of snores coming from Hansol’s side of the bed. Minutes passed where he just lay there, staring at the ceiling, before he finally slipped out of bed. Grabbing a robe and his phone, he made for the lounge and twitched the shut curtains open. As he looked out, the moon painted a silver path on the water and for a moment he felt as if he could follow it out of the world.

 

Sashing his robe a little more tightly, he went to curl up in the corner of the couch and pulled the blanket along the back over himself. His phone became a wellspring of light as he switched it on, and he switched to Youtube, flicking open the search bar. Smile Flower came up under his quick fingers, and he plugged in his earphones and sagged sideways, staring out into the night as he began to listen.

 

He didn’t need to look at the time of night to realise that it was the wolf hours; he had lain awake plenty of times in the past three years at the same time, whether with dissatisfaction after a lover left, or trapped in thoughts of the past. Those were the times Boo Seungkwan understood how royally he had fucked the band over with that single decision of his. The lyrics taunted him – really, ‘whatever happens, just like always we’ll be together’? Even now on the morning of the sixth day, even with all Hansol’s wordless assurances of the past week behind him, he still felt guilt as if he stood in the ocean and the waves closed over his head.

 

His mouth fell open as he gaped to breathe through the feeling of guilt. It wrecked him, and at the bottom of it he fancied he saw a pair of eyes looking up at him with cool, measured disdain.

 

Jeon Wonwoo.

 

It was so many years ago now, more than the three he had been out of the band, but the gulf between them had never been repaired. He had dated Mingyu for a little while after a spectacular argument with Hansol; it had been fiery and desperate on both their sides, because both of them knew, they _knew_ that they pined after different men. It had hurt both of them, until they broke it off for the good of the band, letting it peter back out to an uneasy friendship. Wonwoo-hyung had watched over the course of the affair with hooded, cool eyes, and even afterwards he not so much resented Seungkwan for taking Mingyu away from him, but for hurting him in the process.

 

With a shivering fingertip he pressed play on the song again, listened to it one more time. Another, and another, until he couldn’t hear the sound of the waves above his tears.

 

Taking a deep breath, he wiped some of them off on the robe and went through the list of numbers that Seungcheol-hyung had given him with shaking hands. It cost him all his courage to find and press Wonwoo’s, and he pulled the blanket over his head as he listened to it ring, and ring, and ring.

 

“Hello.” The rapper’s voice was as deep as always, perhaps a bit deeper since he was out of singing condition.

 

Seungkwan bit his lip. “Hyung?” he asked faintly, hating the quiver in his voice. He was a grown man for god’s sake, why was he such a crybaby still? “Hyung, it’s Seungkwan.”

 

Nothing, just silence, but the call didn’t end. Just the slow, even tones of his breathing against Seungkwan’s hitched gulps for air.

 

“Hyung, I’m so sorry.” Words he had never said, never felt he had to say before. “I’m so, so very sorry. I know it’s too late, but they needed to be said.” He dashed at his eyes with his other hand. “I don’t even know what time it is there. I just… I’ve been thinking a lot, and I’m so sorry.”

 

There came the sound of steps, and a faint click as if a door was closed before Wonwoo sighed in his ear. “After so many years?” he finally questioned. “How proud are you, Seungkwan-ah, that it took you until now?”

 

Seungkwan cringed. “It wasn’t pride,” he finally said. “It was selfishness.”

 

“Where did you even get my number?”

 

“Seungcheol-hyung gave it to me,” Seungkwan explained. “I wanted to see if I could bring people together for a reunion, even if it’s just to apologise to everyone. We split up, and it wasn’t my fault totally, but it was my fault mostly. But I don’t even know what to say to you, hyung. I’ve had your number for days now, and each time I tried dialling it I couldn’t go through with it.”

 

Wonwoo sighed slowly, softly; it sounded like he slid down a wall somewhere. “When?” he finally asked. “Because I think we deserve to apologise to each other face-to-face.”

 

“Anytime,” he struggled out. “Anytime. I’m not working on the show, I’m living with Hansol on Jeju at the moment. Or, well, he’s living with me. We’re… talking? Will you come, hyung? Please. _Please_.”

 

Another long pause. “Mingyu-ah will be finished with his fashion shows soon,” Wonwoo finally said. “I’ll get him there somehow.”

 

Seungkwan wasn’t sure how many times he blubbered out his thanks, but the call ended somewhere in between.

 

Hansol found him like that, hiding like a boy under a blanket, and held him silently as sobbing shook him. He didn’t demand anything, just listened, one hand ceaselessly stroking over Seungkwan’s back. In the end, they both fell asleep together there, wrapped in the single blanket as the moon watched over them.

 

* * *

 

 

The real morning dawned, with both of them still silent as they went through showers and dressing. Nevertheless, Hansol held his hand as they wandered down to where the rental car was parked, and rested Seungkwan’s hand on his thigh as he drove them slowly to the Boo family residence to pick up the kids for a visit to Aqua World. It took several trips around the place before Seungkwan smiled again, balancing his niece on his shoulders as Hansol carried the two boys, one under each arm. But smile he did, feeling a great lightness grow in his heart.

 

That afternoon, with a light heart, Seungkwan accompanied him to a music store and watched as he browsed for old and new albums alike, eventually turning away to make another call. He mentally totted the hours up between Los Angeles and Seoul as the call began to ring, blinking as it started immediately rather than wait for a moment for international switching.

 

“Hyung?” he said, confused, as Joshua picked up perhaps two seconds later. “That was quick. It’s Seungkwan, hyung. Do you have time to talk? I know your schedule is a little busy.”

 

“Seungkwan-ah?” Jisoo sounded just as confused. “Long time no speak… no? How did you know I’m back in South Korea?”

 

Seungkwan’s eyes widened at that. “You’re in South Korea?” he asked incredulously. “But I thought you were in the States still!”

 

“I just landed,” Jisoo explained, voice gentle but with a timbre that his own had lost from three years of only occasional singing. “Literally… I just stepped from the corridor into Incheon. The second I switched my phone from airplane mode to normal, your call came through. Long time no speak! How are you, Seungkwan-ah, are you healthy and well?”

 

“Um, yes?” Seungkwan felt a little lost for words. “I’m okay, acclimatising to not working for the moment. You? What are you doing here?”

 

Jisoo paused for a moment, apologising as he stepped around someone. “Ah… I’m well. Well enough at least. My current music company and I are having a bit of a misunderstanding about what direction my career should go into. I was so sick of Los Angeles and the States I apologised to my mother and flew here for some healing time.”

 

Seungkwan’s grasp tightened onto his phone. “Hyung… what are your plans? Don’t you want to come to Jeju rather?”

 

“I had planned on staying in the airport hotel tonight, but I was just going to hire a place for a few months, see who I could catch up with?” Jisoo murmured, background noise fading. “You’re in Jeju?”

 

“Hansol and I are in Jeju. He’s… um, look, can I buy you a ticket? Do you have enough money? I can buy you a ticket, I promise!”

 

“Seungkwan-ah,” Jisoo’s gentle voice reassured. “They don’t pay me that badly, I can afford my own ticket. Are you and Hansol talking again? That’s such good news, the only person I really stayed in contact with was Hannie and he’s been incommunicado somewhere in Ilsan last I heard. Are you sure it’ll be okay?”

 

“Lemme check?” Seungkwan muted the call and turned, practically storming to the R&B section of the shop. “Jisoo-hyung just landed at Incheon,” he got out breathlessly. “Without me even asking. Is it okay if I invite him to visit us here? He’s already at the airport, he can just get another flight out. I can put him up in the Hyatt no problems.”

 

Hansol blinked, putting an album down. “In the Hyatt?” he asked gently. “Not at the house?”

 

Seungkwan gnawed at his lower lip. “It’s our house,” he finally said plaintively, giving utterance to the longing in his heart. “Just our place. Not immediately, if that’s okay?”

 

His gift was a small, sweet smile from his lover. “Sure, invite him,” he muttered. “Thank you, Kwan.”

 

Embarrassed, Seungkwan turned to un-mute the call. “It’s okay!” he said happily. “We can put you up in the Hyatt, I’ll call and reserve a room right away. God, hyung, I’m so happy, this is destiny, don’t you think? What is that English word?”

 

“Serendipity,” Jisoo said easily. “And okay, I’ll buy a ticket. But only tomorrow if that’s okay, Seungkwan-ah, I’m so jetlagged you won’t believe it. I just want to get to my luggage, get to the hotel here and get to bed. And for the last time, I can pay for myself. I’ll SMS you the details of the flight as soon as I have it.” He paused. “I look forward to seeing you, Seungkwan-ah, I missed you too. Chat again.”

 

Seungkwan ended the call, turning to find Hansol, only for his hand to be captured.

 

The rapper led him out of the shop and into the street, then around into the tangle of shops that clustered the neighbourhood, until he found a dim, quiet spot between two shops, and turned to rest his shoulder blades against the cool plaster before he pulled Seungkwan closer. His arms locked gently around his waist and he leaned to kiss him, delicate and sweet and soft. It was almost like their first kiss with the way that Seungkwan stilled in shock, then melted against him.

 

“What was that for?” Seungkwan asked when he was finally allowed to pull back, mouth swollen a little by the slow, hungry kisses in the end.

 

“You put me first,” Hansol said. “When I didn’t expect it and didn’t demand it, you finally put me first, even in a small matter like not sharing the house. In calling it our house, not just your house.” His hands sleeked down Seungkwan’s sides, curved around until he could stick it in the pockets over his butt. “Tilt your head to the right?”

 

Seungkwan shivered and did as asked, too overwhelmed to question it. When Hansol’s mouth touched gently to his neck he sighed, uninterested in looking around. In the next moment, his body jerked as he received a little nip before his lover’s kiss turned to hard, insistent sucking. His knees wanted to melt knowing that quiet, withdrawn Hansol was marking him in such a spot; it was high enough on his neck that everyone would be able to see. It rang from his being, melting in his heart: he had  _finally_ done something right.

 

* * *

 

Kim Mingyu tried not to growl as multiple hands fussed around him, fixing everything from his hair to his makeup to the suit he had on. He had become used to it over the past fifteen years, but as he reminded himself daily, that didn’t mean that he had to like it. Still, he tried to tell a joke, tried to keep everyone’s spirits up even as the air outside turned dark with the approach of night. The show had passed successfully, he just had the after-party he needed to walk around in, and perhaps by the time midnight came he’d be able to go home to his tiny flat and play with his neighbour’s dogs. It was his last show of the season. He had earned a break.

 

He ignored the rattle of conversation at the door, used to the rapid-fire Italian by now, and straightened for his final inspection.

 

“Mingyu-ah.”

 

The voice was like deep, cool water, smooth enough to be opaque, shaping the syllables of his name perfectly like only a native speaker could. He knew the voice, knew the person he would see when he turned his head. Even that didn’t prepare him for Jeon Wonwoo’s physical presence in the dressing room. He stood like an ancient tree, upright and firm, ignoring the secretary yelling at him for intruding. Still just a twitch shorter, still as slim and lithe as a model.

 

“Hyung,” his voice cracked, and he wondered desperately whether he was going to faint. It felt like that. Even after three years, his impact was still too great.

 

Wonwoo nodded. “Mingyu-ah,” he said achingly gently. “It’s time to come home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. There's some angst in this chapter, but it's resolved almost immediately. 
>   2. More of the players in the story begin to show their faces. So far, the people who know are: Seungcheol, Jisoo, Soonyoung, Wonwoo, Jihoon, Mingyu and of course Verkwan. 
>   3. The song for this chapter is Seventeen's '[Smile Flower](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PFCQiURzLkk&ab_channel=SEVENTEEN)'. 
> 



	9. Chapter 9

Kim Mingyu filled nervously with his seatbelt and tried to relax, breathing in the rigidly conditioned air of the plane. After all these years, he still had a buzz from being seated in first class. Beyond first class? Was that a thing? He had no idea how Wonwoo had managed to get the Residence on an Etihad flight to Seoul at such short notice. Terribly short notice at that; he had barely had time to get to his apartment and pack a bag before the chauffeur drove them to Fiumicino with belt-gripping speed. He had watched as a black card had passed hands at the airport, listened to his hyung’s perfect, if accented Italian and wondered in which fever dream he was.

 

Home. The word had so much emotion connected to it that he didn’t know what to think. How had his hyung known where he was, how had he even gotten there quickly? Mingyu trembled at the idea of going back to face everything and everyone, and somehow the ultra-luxurious surroundings made it worse.

 

He started as the man at his side reached out to tap the hand he had clenched around the belt, working it loose and holding it. Although they were buckled in separately, the warmth of it made him relax a little bit. Contact had always grounded him. They were… ah. _Liftoff_.

 

The jet lumbered smoothly into the air after a shockingly short run down the runway. The steward came around after a few minutes, asked them what they wanted to eat, hauled out a menu with a surprising variation of options. There was wine. So many thoughts, all centered around the man that sat opposite him, light splashing off his features.

 

He looked so _good_.

 

Mingyu bent his head and ate quietly. He didn’t miss that somehow the choicest portions of Wonwoo’s meal still made it into his plate, just ate and ate with the abandon of a man that felt apart from the world, divorced from reality.

 

It was only when they sat back over an after-dinner cup of coffee that he raked up the courage. “Hyung,” he asked softly. “What’s going on? How did you find me? Did something happen to my family? I didn’t hear anything, is there a problem?

 

Wonwoo stirred his cup quietly. “I’ve been living in Tuscany for the past few years,” he admitted. “Since you took the contract with your modelling house.” His head turned away as he looked at the plane window after a sip. “Someone had to watch over you. Nothing happened to your family.”

 

Mingyu struggled to understand. Like that, he sounded more mysterious than ever, until he didn’t know where to find the boy that had laughed so hard at times in the cool, serene man in front of him. “You’ve been watching over me?” he asked incredulously, trying not to think of all his back-and-forth over the past few years, all the intermittent lovers, all the salacious gossip. All his heartache, trying to chase the memory of a man with a horde of fakes. “But why? Why didn’t you ever come and say hi at least?”

 

“I didn’t feel it was my right,” Wonwoo replied. “Mingyu-ya, you had made a difficult enough decision three years ago. The band was falling apart, and I was a tool, and you didn’t know where to go, so you fled. It’s understandable. I didn’t know how to approach you.” His sideways glanced sparked in the light. “But I once told you years and years ago that I’d watch over you. How old were we when we nicked our fingers and pressed them together?”

 

“Sixteen?” Mingyu tried. “Seventeen? I can’t remember. But hyung, you told me that I was a baby, that I couldn’t make a good decision if it cost me my life and that it likely would.”

 

“I found you in bed with that guy,” Wonwoo said, resting his head back against the chair. “You had called me, panicked, and when I came he had restrained you and was beating you, because he thought that was how sex worked. I was so very afraid, and I just… I just snapped? I called you horrible things because it reminded me of the year before, with you and Seungkwan dating and hurting each other.”

 

Mingyu shuddered at the memories. The fear of being helpless, of feeling fists beat against him from a guy he had been attracted to. Of seeing cool, calm, serene Wonwoo-hyung _kick his way through a door_. Seeing him beat the guy until he was almost a pulpy mess, and the fight when they got back to the dorm. “You were so angry and cold,” he muttered.

 

Wonwoo considered him, pushing the coffee aside before he moved to sit at Mingyu’s side, and entwined a hand through the younger’s trembling fingers. “I was angry with myself more than you,” he said gently. “Because somehow, when it comes to you I am a dog in a manger, Gyu-ya. Never willing to eat the straw, but not willing to let others share it either. I’ve wanted to apologise for so long, but I was just as prideful and selfish as Seungkwan-ah. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.” He cleared his throat. “He called me, you know?”

 

Stunned, Mingyu forgot the pain circling in his heart for a moment. “He did?” he asked incredulously. “I thought you two hated each other.”

 

Wonwoo shook his head. “He called me in a panic yesterday, crying as if his heart was breaking, and apologised to me. I wanted to yell at him, but I realised I was just the same.” He took a deep breath. “He invited me back for a reconciliation, and I knew, I _knew_ that it was my chance. I told him I’d bring both of us, but it’s not just that. You deserve to go home, and I’m sorry I was the one that drove you away from it. I would like to work for your forgiveness, if it’s at all possible.”

 

“So you bought me the most expensive seat in the world and dragged me out of Rome at one in the morning?” Mingyu’s voice cracked.

 

Wonwoo blinked blankly at him. “It was the only seat open I could find,” he said plaintively.

 

Mingyu wanted to punch his hyung. Worse, he wanted to kiss him. It was an uneasy melange of feelings. Instead he sighed tiredly. “Hyung, you’re too much. Do you have any idea how much my breach of contract fees are going to be?”

 

“No,” Wonwoo whispered, and squeezed his hand again. “I’m a terrible person. I didn’t really ask if you wanted to be abducted, or whether you wanted to have your new life rather. I’d pay a million severance fees. It’s not about the money, or even a reconciliation with the others. It’s about you, Gyu-ya. It’s always been about you, and I’m a fool for realising it so late. Look, we’re going to land in Abu Dhabi in a few. If you want to go back, I promise I’ll pay for it. But if you want to continue on with me… I can’t think of a big enough way to say ‘thank you’.”

 

This time it was Mingyu that squeezed the hand around his. “Together,” he chose. “I don’t need to wait until Abu Dhabi to tell you that.”

 

* * *

 

They were almost late to Abu Dhabi, the last to get onto the giant plane to Seoul. Mingyu rolled his eyes when he spotted that they were ensconced in the same seats as the last flight. His hyung’s card was definitely getting a workout. This time, when Wonwoo explained (solemnly, and with a straight face!) that there had been some family trouble and that they’d really like to just talk and nap in private, the stewardess made a bed immediately for one of them, likely presuming the other would sleep in the actual bed attached to the suite. Mingyu watched her place the ‘Do not Disturb’ sticker and wondered if she knew how many times they had shared the same bed, albeit platonically.

 

The airplane pyjamas were too short for him, but fit his hyung perfectly, so he forewent the pants in favour of one of his tracksuits. The bed wasn’t the biggest either, but it had a door and there were little fake pinpricks like stars above them. It felt way too strange to lie down though, so he held to his side of the double bed until he felt Wonwoo reach out for him. Slowly and cautiously they eased together, until their limbs tangled together and he felt a bit more comfortable and they shifted until he was on his side, resting half-over his hyung’s torso.

 

Wonwoo gently petted the man in his arms; Mingyu-ya had always needed a lot of skinship, depending on it in some way for his equilibrium. Even now he could feel the tight shivers of his tall frame ease, until he relaxed a bit and slumped against him. “That’s better,” he murmured into his hair, one arm warm around him and the other still gently coasting up and down the long, long stretch of spine.

 

“Hyung,” Mingyu muttered in the fleecy airplane pyjamas that covered Wonwoo’s chest. “Hyung, it’s real, right? You’re here? This isn’t one of my nightmares?”

 

Wonwoo’s heart clenched at that. “It’s real,” he assured him quietly. “We’re in a bedroom in the sky, how many times would that be in your nightmares?”

 

Mingyu sighed. “More often than you know. At least the bedroom part, before it all goes to shit. God, I’m so scared. Can this even be fixed?”

 

Looking down, Wonwoo focused on the spill of hair on his chest in the dim light from the residual cabin glow. “Look up,” he whispered.

 

When Mingyu did, the look on his face was enough to make Wonwoo sigh. His lids were downcast, limbs trembling; it killed him to know that he had hurt him so badly in the past that he’d be this skittish, this shy. His Mingyu deserved to be loud and proud, galloping and seeking affection everywhere like the biggest, softest puppy ever. Instead of speaking, he leant down to kiss the tremble off his lips, feeling them still slowly. He kissed them again and again, never more than a few seconds, until the tension went and he felt the full, heavy impact of his dongsaeng’s tall, muscled body against his. More and more kisses, each precisely meted out, until Mingyu sighed his soft surrender against his.

 

“It’s not a nightmare,” he repeated, reaching down to coax one mile-long leg to lift and settle over his, until their calves tucked together. “It’s real, I promise. I _promise_.”

 

“Kiss me again,” Mingyu begged. “I want to believe you but it’s been three years. I’d given up hope.”

 

Wonwoo reached up to cup his cheek, thumb gentle against his lower lip. No more trembles, just a softness he kicked himself for not trying before. Idly, rolling up and over for a little leverage, he kissed and suckled at the plump stretch of that lip, tugging gently at it until Mingyu’s gasp sounded in his skin and he could possess his mouth fully. Just one kiss, full and hot and hard, promising everything, before he stilled and rested his palm on one thin hip instead. “Sleep,” he ordered softly.

 

Mingyu, feeling the low voice resonate through his body, which still rang with the impact of that kiss, closed his eyes obediently and tucked close to do just that.

 

* * *

 

Seungkwan had woken up next to a number of men in his life, both innocent and not, but waking up next to Hansol was the best ever. He had strong arms around him, Hansol was very gently kissing his nape and… yes, _yes_ , one of his lover’s large hands was doing something extremely wicked to his length. He barely managed to fight down a gasp, sleepy eyes sliding shut again.

 

“I know you’re awake,” Hansol laughed. “You might as well open your eyes.”

 

“Don’t wanna,” he pouted, shuddering and shivering into a little ball as Hansol’s too-talented fingers pinched gently at the sensitive, slick tip of his cock.

 

Hansol nuzzled the back of his neck again. “You have to, sleepyhead,” he teased gently. “We need to go and fetch Jisoo-hyung sometime today, and before that I want to have my way twice with you at least.” Another little teasing pinch. “Once in the shower,” he whispered, nibbling down on Seungkwan’s shoulder. “The second place depends on how naughty you’re feeling.”

 

Seungkwan shivered with the promise, opening his eyes to peek over his shoulder. Nonie was grinning like a devil, which made him want to squirm and wriggle with excitement. “Very,” he whispered, canting his hips back. “Very, very, very.”

 

“Mm, is that so?” Hansol asked, removing his fingers to lick them clean. “In that case, I have an idea. Come on, get up.” His hand came down on Seungkwan’s butt with a light smack. “Get up, Kwan.”

 

Seungkwan had thought that he’d been fucked enough in a shower to be a connoisseur of the art, but Hansol spared him no punches that morning. It was hot and hard and wet and raw from the start, enough that his knees almost collapsed at the end and all he was ready for was a bed and some more sleep. He had no such luck though; when he stepped out of the shower Hansol was already tearing a packet of lube open with his teeth, and bent him over the bathtub with no apologies.

 

“I want us to go for tests,” he muttered as he slicked Seungkwan’s pucker, long fingers pushing him nearly into oversensitivity. “God, Kwan, I want to feel this glorious ass naked around me.”

 

“Yesssss,” Seungkwan hissed as he lifted his hips again, barely managing to lock his knees. “Nnnh, Nonie, oh god, I’m not going to last…” He gasped as he felt his lover’s hands leave, then another intrusion. It was smooth and slick, not Hansol’s size but certainly girthy, and got seated with a couple of demanding taps. For a moment he was left to breathe, until it started buzzing and vibrating, and he yelled with the sudden pressure. “Shit! What the hell…”

 

Hansol tapped something in his hand and the vibrations faded. “Come on,” he said as he tapped Seungkwan on the ass again. “It’s time to dress for the airport.”

 

Seungkwan stumbled up straight, red-hot with embarrassment. “You want to go and do it at the airport?” he whispered.

 

“You’re the one that said you felt very, very, very naughty,” Hansol murmured, helping him from the bathroom into the room. “So we’ll go and be very, very, very naughty. Now, there’s something else… ah! There. Here, wear this.”

 

“Chwe Hansol,” Seungkwan said, faintly outraged, as he looked at the scrap of nothing in his hand. “This is a thong. It’s not even a man-thong. This is a girl’s thong.”

 

“Astute observation.”

 

“When did you buy a girl’s thong? We didn’t even pass by any shops?”

 

Hansol turned to stare at him. “I nipped into the boutique when you were reserving the room at the Silla for Jisoo-hyung yesterday. Put it on, Boo.”

 

Cheeks scarlet with embarrassment and arousal, Seungkwan looked at the little scrap of lace and satin and stepped into it, praying that it’d fit. It did, but just-just, and the jeans felt weird going on over them; he felt naked almost. Yanking on his shirt, tucking it into the front, he grabbed his sunglasses and put them on with a huff of irritation.

 

“Sunscreen, Boo,” Hansol reminded him too sweetly. The bastard was _definitely_ enjoying the situation too much.

 

Defeated for the moment, he pulled the sunglasses off, put everything on from sunscreen to cologne, before he left again. His cheeks remained red the entire way out to the car, and he prayed that he’d make it to the airport in one piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. So, for those that don't know, The Residence is the option on an Etihad flight that you get a three-room apartment of your own, with bedroom, bathroom and lounge areas. It has a real bed. It's also priced as somewhere between $29000 to $32000 one-way for a single person when I last checked. I don't know if they actually have this option on the routes I mentioned, it's just on some of them. Just dream with me... 
>   2. A little bit of Mingyu and Wonwoo's POV, with more to come later. 
>   3. More things that people requested. 
>   4. The song for the chapter is IU's '[Dear Name](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sRPAxM6ejqw&ab_channel=TamTamLyrics).' 
> 



	10. Chapter 10

The airport was full of people. Thanks to being the busiest air route in South Korea, it never really emptied, especially with over a hundred flights a day arriving there. Even early – Jisoo-hyung’s flight didn’t arrive for another hour and a half – there were so many people around that Seungkwan’s head spun with the sight of all of them. It had only cost a single look in the passenger mirror to decide to keep his sunglasses on. His eyes had that glassiness to them they got when he was seriously turned on, and his skin felt too tight for his body. Hansol had been devastatingly efficient with the damned switch on their way over.

 

It had grown from its humble beginnings; these days it had a new multi-level parking garage attached to it, and it looked as if someone had paid strict attention to aesthetics. The front façade and line of the roof was one continuous loop, all things that he would have loved to see if he wasn’t’ that freaking turned on. It was difficult to climb out of the car, the movements shifted at him too much in the stupid thong Hansol had insisted on. Fine, he was a bit smaller, but it wasn’t as if there was nothing there like a girl. The silk was holding him down way too tightly, and the string in the back had crept up his butt, and he would have sold his right eyebrow for some proper underwear. The only saving grace was that his shirt covered him in the front, or he would have been flashing everyone.

 

Compared to him, Hansol looked like a tall drink of water. Crisp light jeans, a silk shirt that even he envied, and a loose relaxed stride as he led him down the length of the parking garage. He was _humming_ , the fiend, and smiling and bobbing greetings to people as they walked past them. The humming became even louder as they crossed into the air-conditioned comfort of the airport building.

 

Hansol led him down through the warren of people, and he didn’t relax enough to realise they were off the beaten path until they were. It wasn’t some tacky bathroom but what looked like a little cubby between current (idle) construction and an odd angle of the building. Covered, hidden from everyone, with no cameras, but practically right across from what looked like a popular bistro. If he made even the slightest noise they’d be discovered. The pit of fire in his stomach couldn’t decide whether it turned him on even worse or not. From the way his hands were starting to tremble faintly, it was _more_.

 

He leant his forehead against the cool tile as Hansol crowded in behind him, breath fogging a small cloud onto the surface, and he nearly cried out as he felt one of his large hands settle at his waist, hitching the shirt up so they could be palm to flesh. It felt like a brand against his skin, electrifying it until he could feel the shivers pass up and down his frame and he had to bite down on a knuckle.

 

“Boo.” Hansol’s voice buzzed in his ear despite how soft it was. Logically he knew it’d not be picked up a pace further, let alone on the other side of a wall in a busy airport corridor, but he couldn’t seem to internalise the logic, felt shatteringly aware of everything.

 

“You’re shivering like a leaf,” his lover murmured against the soft skin behind one ear as he chased the shivers up and down Seungkwan’s back, then reached around to pull his pants open in the front, tugging them just a little down so that he could snap-snap-snap the thong’s string. “Mhm, this looks nice against your skin, you should wear this shade of grey more often.” His fingertip followed it down, almost to where it disappeared, before he pressed another kiss against that same soft, sensitive spot.

 

Seungkwan’s knees trembled and he leant forward to hug the wall a little better, just so that he wouldn’t collapse. “Nonie…” he got out on a thread whisper. “Nonie, have mercy, okay? This is too much, this is…” He had to break off and bite at his finger again as Hansol reached around to fondle his stiff length; he had never been so happy in his life when the tightness seemed to irritate him and he snapped one side with a quick, savage twist.

 

“Shhh,” Hansol soothed, rubbing slowly up and down his length, pumping it with firm strokes. At the same time, the vibrator switched on again, and the dual sensations melted into a whole that wanted to blow his mind. His body felt over-sensitised, pushed beyond what it normally handled, but it wasn’t enough, it was just short of the point he’d tip over and fall into a climax. He felt Hansol’s other hand search down his side and back to dip between his cheeks. A whine surged for him as he realised how ridiculously slick he still was from whatever the hell lubricant Hansol had used; the vibrator came free with no effort whatsoever, and he heard it being tucked somewhere before Hansol’s hands were back on him.

 

Hansol’s firm hands closed around his hips and he pulled his hips back, persuaded the jeans down to below his butt and palmed his cheeks open wide. It pulled and made him feel vulnerable; that and the icy sensation from the cool airport air went straight to his head as he heard Hansol murmur his approval at his view. Fingers invaded him, sliding in easily, first two, then three. It was so much that he had to drop his hand, cover his cock in case he soiled the wall in front of him.

 

“I’m going to fuck you,” Hansol muttered behind him, nibbling at the opposite earlobe. “Hard and fast. You’re going to be a good boy and take it, right?”

 

Seungkwan managed to whimper out a soft affirmative as the fingers deep inside him gently slid past his prostate, almost but not quite enough to get him off.

 

The fingers pulled out and he heard the quick fumble of a condom before strong fingers pulled his cheeks wider apart and Hansol’s cock surged into him, thick and strong and intense. The thrust was hard enough that he smacked against the wall in front, hitting spaces deep inside him that he didn’t know he had, and he had to shift his mouth to his arm to stifle the scream that tried to erupt.

 

Hansol fucked him as hard and fast as he promised, but exquisitely skilfully; he knew exactly how far to push Seungkwan’s body, how to conquer it so that Seungkwan’s mind was a haze of feeling. It knotted up with the forbidden feel of the encounter, stringing up his frantically beating heart and nervous system until he felt like a ball of sensations rather than a person, something closer to erotic poetry in motion than a living, breathing human being.

 

He surrendered to it, felt the way his body melted against the wall, the way he needily canted his hips backward. It was so strange to be so silent; it was totally different to being fucked on the beach, a step up of some magnitude that he almost couldn’t handle. His eyes fluttered closed as he swayed his hips, standing on tip-toes to feel the shuddering, pistoning strokes more. He was so close, so _close_ that it felt as his head wanted to explode, but he couldn’t reach it, it was just barely not enough.

 

Barely aware of what was going on, he felt Hansol come, but there was no release for him, not until Hansol pulled out, swung him around and sunk down to wrap his lips around his achingly hard cock. One flick of his absurdly flexible tongue as fingers pumped back into him, two, and he bite down hard enough on his lip that it felt it would burst as he came and came, spraying into Hansol’s mouth with no chance of stopping it. His rapper drank him down, sucking hard, swallowing him down to his root. He came what felt like endlessly, time skewed out of recognition, and for a moment there he didn’t quite pass out but certainly lost all control of sensory input.

 

When he came to he was propped up against the wall still, but Hansol had a palm over his mouth and he was sobbing behind it, tears streaming down his face. He felt absurdly light and free, as if he could float into the infinite sky.

 

“Shhh,” Hansol muttered, kissing his forehead, his temples, suddenly gentle. “Shh baby, sssh, it’s alright, just ride it out, let it flow through you…”

 

 _I love this man,_ Seungkwan’s heart told him; his mind floated in so many endorphins it had no defence against that singular truth, and it shuddered through his being, gaining strength with each aftershock that rang through his being.

 

It took a long time for him to calm, but he was quiet as Hansol put him back together after the best climax of his life. He removed the mangled thong, tucked him neatly back into his pants, and attended to himself, knotting and wrapping the condom in a bag before he pulled up his own pants. Minutes later they strolled out and to a bathroom, and disposed of everything before going to wash their hands. He caught Hansol winking insolently at him, and abruptly he burst out with laughter, nearly curling with his mirth.

 

“Fuck,” he said with feeling. “That nearly killed me, you bastard.”

 

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” Hansol said idly, saucily. “Come on, I’m starving and I want to drink some water in the worst way ever.”

 

They lingered over late breakfast. Seungkwan felt absurdly relaxed, still free, still slowly coming down to earth. By the time they stood in the arrivals area, he had calmed just a little, and his mind kicked into gear as he finally realised why Hansol had done what he did. He no longer felt nervous about seeing Jisoo-hyung at all. On the contrary, when he did see him step through the arrivals gate, all that still flushed through him was excitement, and he stormed forward to hug him carefully. His hyung smelled of expensive cologne and the powdery scent of dry-cleaned clothes, and his arms slipped cramp-tight around his waist.

 

“Hyung!” he got out, arms squeezing. “Oh god hyung, it’s the best thing ever to see you, let me look at you!”

 

“Look at me?” Jisoo-hyung scolded. “Let me look at you!”

 

His American hyung still looked much as he ever did. Effortlessly pretty, with his hair in a soft brown shade that fit him very well. He was still slender and almost delicate; though his pretty cat-face looked a tiny bit older and his gaze very adult, he was still one of the prettiest men of Seungkwan’s acquaintance. Only Jeonghan-hyung might look more flowery, he supposed. Deceptively slim limbs hugged him with real strength again before they made him turn around and around.

 

Jisoo-hyung got out a disbelieving laugh. “How dare you look even better than three years ago?” he asked. “You look like you’re aging backwards like Benjamin Button, Seungkwan-ah, it’s unfair. All I’ve got are wrinkles. You’re practically glowing.”

 

“Hyung, no…” he got out, because if there was one thing Hong Jisoo did not look like, it was old, and he _really_ didn’t want to discuss why he was still flushed.

 

“Hey man,” Hansol greeted easily, peculiarly accented in that way people that grew up speaking English did, right before he offered him a high-five and a hard bro-hug before taking his suitcase. “We have the car here, but we thought you might want to sleep a little more, so we’re going to the hotel first.”

 

Seungkwan hooked one arm around Jisoo-hyung’s. “Welcome to Jeju!” he called, pulling him forward. “Come on, let me reintroduce you to my home.”

 

They spent the drive trading memories and life stories and songs; Jisoo-hyung was apparently really angry at his company that wanted him to turn away from his current singing career towards writing songs for the ‘younger generation’, a term delivered with an eye-roll and air-commas. The chatting lasted all the way to the resort complex, where the lady at the desk handed over the card and Seungkwan nearly jittered as they neared the suit.

 

Jisoo-hyung’s face was priceless when he opened it and walked into the suite with the huge bunch of flowers on the table, as well as the ‘Welcome Home’ balloons that drifted near the ceiling, to say nothing of the expensive brand of sparkling apple juice that chilled in a bucket. “What is this suite?” he asked incredulously, turning around and around to look at the madly happy look of the sitting room, then the serene rooms beyond before he halted before the massive view down over the beach. “Oh my gosh, they don’t pay me this well!”

 

“It’s our gift!” Seungkwan bubbled happily. “Mine and Nonie’s, we wanted to remind you of the best South Korea had to offer, and to welcome you home. I have so much to say, but we wanted to let you enjoy the place before I start talking and explaining about why we invited you down here beyond just wanting to see you.”

 

“Take your time to relax, man,” Hansol echoed. “Chill out, get a massage. We’ve got it covered. We’ll leave you to chill a little, but we’ll be by for dinner if you feel like it. I think tomorrow Wonwoo-hyung and Mingyu-hyung are showing up as well, if the flight plan we got from them is accurate.”

 

“They are?” Jisoo-hyung faltered. “Seungkwan-ah…” He quieted, biting his lip.

 

“Hyung,” Seungkwan said as clearly as he could, and reached for Hansol’s hand. “I’m not going to fuck this up, I promise. It’ll be fine. This time we’ll really be okay, and back to being brothers. Just relax for a bit, and I’ll add you to the chat group and you can chat if you want.”

 

Jisoo-hyung beamed at him, even prettier like that. “Run along,” he said gently. “I’ll trust in you this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. So airports don't work like this, but just go with it for the flow! 
>   2. So I double-checked and the place they booked isn't in the Hyatt, it's the Shilla, I'll go and fix that in previous chapters. [Here](https://www.shilla.net/jeju/accommodation/viewAccmo.do?contId=PRS#) is the suite they booked him. 
>   3. The song for this chapter is Seventeen's '[Who](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qwkgOyarD6c)', which is one of my favourite songs of theirs, not just because of That Fancam of Hoshi grinding to it. 
> 



	11. Chapter 11

Seungkwan jittered as he stood at the arrivals gate with Jisoo-hyung and Hansol at his side. Wonwoo-hyung had let them know the flight number, and he had grumbled to Hansol that they should have had airport sex before this arrival, not Jisoo-hyung's. His rapper had laughed, kissed his neck and left him entirely alone, knowing how on edge he was. Now, trying to spot their tall frames, his fingers were a rat-tat-tat on the metal chair's arm.

 

"You're going to have to trank him," Jisoo murmured in his LA-accented English to Hansol. "If he flies into too many pieces, it'll be messy finding all of him."

 

"Pooper-scooper?" Hansol offered thoughtfully as a solution. "We can carry him out in bags."

 

Offended and amused at the same time, Seungkwan was on the edge of kicking them both when two very familiar forms wandered through the gate. Both of them looked tired, but their features were so familiar that it caught at his heart. Swallowing, he stood slowly, waving to get their attention.

 

It was Wonwoo that saw him first, and he saw him nudge Mingyu, pointing him out. It was the calm smile that formed that gave him courage to surge forward to meet Mingyu's hug over the small barricade, grunting with the impact, and he had to bite down savagely on his cheek to stop crying. He wasn't quite sure when he pulled back, but he had an armful of Wonwoo-hyung next, and he tried to hug him hard enough to make his ribs creak.

 

"Seungkwan-ah." Gentle, cool, but accepting, and there was a hand that rested on his head for a moment. "We're blocking the way a little."

 

Pulling back with a pout, he waited just long enough for them to round the barricade into the open area before he hugged them again. This time, just to show off, he hitched Wonwoo up a little in his arms. He had always had a stockier build than the taller, and his hyung was only a trifle heavier than their performance days. After that another session of hugs, and they scooted out into the van Hansol had hired, on their way back to the Silla.

 

"You two can stay in my suite," Joshua dictated. "It's so large I keep getting lost in the master bathroom. There are two more bedrooms..."

 

Mingyu leant forward, eager and puppyish. "We'll share one of them! Is it pretty, hyung? Gosh, I haven't been here in forever. It's so bright!"

 

Seungkwan caught Wonwoo's eye in the mirror from his shotgun seat. He didn't shift expression, didn't say anything overtly, but there was a look in his eye that challenged him, stated a subtle point. A subtle claim, almost? He grinned to see that bit of possessiveness and let his own eyelid droop into a wink. "We can stop in town to get some sunglasses. You two have so little luggage though! Even Jisoo had more."

 

"Someone dragged me away before I could pack more," Mingyu groaned, reaching out to rest a hand on Wonwoo's knee. "So I figure he's going to pay for my everything."

 

Wonwoo mumbled a reply as Jisoo set to teasing both of them, and Seungkwan glanced at Hansol, smiling happily. There had to be talking, but they'd handle that.

 

After a long shopping spree all of them squeezed into Seungkwan's eomma's house for late lunch. The kids discovered new targets to play with, and liberally clambered all over Mingyu and Jisoo, whilst Seungkwan and Wonwoo wandered out and down the street a bit, each with a beer in hand. Seungkwan waited until they had sunk down on a park bench before he spoke up. "I said sorry before, but I didn't really understand earlier, hyung. I thought I had a lot of emotional sensitivity, but I sure as hell didn't show it."

 

"I didn't expect you to call me," Wonwoo admitted. "Or that you'd sound so frightened about it. I always told myself that I wasn't angry at you for my sake, but his?" His fingers twisted the beer around slowly. "I was so proud for not having my emotions involved there, until you called and it made me remember how jealous I used to be. I didn't treat him very well either."

 

"But you loved him," Seungkwan said quietly. "I only thought I was in love with him. It was never... it was never me, you know? It was one of the things we fought about. There was a part of his heart that I could never touch, and a part of mine he could never touch. Hyung, I don't know how to make this thing right between us, but I don't want silence for three years again. I made a fucking huge mistake, I was half the cause of the band exploding. I don't know how to _fix this_."

 

Wonwoo took a sip from his can. "I don't think 'Sorry' can fix this, Kwan-ah," he finally said. "On either of our sides. It's not that kind of thing, right? But perhaps it's enough to have a new start for us?" He reached out to clink his can against Seungkwan's, shoulders slumping. "I don't want to fight anymore," he muttered with a monotone. "I get too much in my head, withdraw too much before it all explodes out."

 

"So you're surly and I'm selfish?" Seungkwan murmured as his lips twisted into a smile.

 

Wonwoo laughed softly at that, lifting the can to salute him. "We _are_ a pair. Let's just work together well again, Kwan-ah, that's all I want."

 

"Hyung," Seungkwan said. "That's all I really want as well."

 

That afternoon, seated in the comfortable couches of Jisoo's suite, the eldest clicked his tongue as he looked at his phone. "Listen to this: Spotted this week, several members of old boy-group Seventeen returning to Seoul.'... oh, this is a good photo of you two, Mingyu-ah, see?" He tilted to show them the photo. "It goes on to speculate about reasons for returning, although no one at your Milan office has blabbed yet?"

 

"Nor should they, with the payment I had to make," Wonwoo said scathingly before he reached to pat Mingyu's head. "But it is a good photo, and you're worth it."

 

Hansol tilted his head to look. "They're going to start wondering sooner or later," he muttered. "Especially when Jun-hyung and Minghao-hyung show up next week. Kwannie, you might as well explain."

 

Seungkwan inhaled. "I think we split up too early," he got out rapid-fire. "Look at all the groups still having a run, and... and..." He sighed. "We had so much talent, so many good songs. We were brothers, and I fucked us up, and I just want another chance. I know they don't come along easily, I know we've all got other things we did, but please? Can we at least give it a chance?"

 

"Is this why you got us together?" Mingyu asked, expression falling a little.

 

"No! No, I really just wanted to get all of us together," Seungkwan said, leaning forward. "All of us. But it's also just a chance to think about it?"

 

to his surprise, it was Wonwoo that came to his rescue. "I believe him," he said. "When he called me, I could still hear Smile Flower through his tears. It's not about the concerts. No one fakes that well, Gyu-ah."

 

Mingyu's smile grew again, trembling a little, but finally blooming.

 

"Seungkwan and I still need to talk through our troubles as well," Hansol added. "But I made my decision already. I'm here of the long haul, if it's for a normal get-together or a concert."

 

"I once sacrificed everything that was important to me for something I thought I wanted, only to find out it wasn't about that at all," Seungkwan added. "I know what I want, and I'm willing to work at it. Whatever you decide. Whatever all of us decide."

 

Jisoo rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "I thought it would take forever for you lot to grow up," he gently teased. "I'm in."

 

"I'm in too!" Mingyu said happily. "Just the thought of being able to eat what I want is worth it."

 

"I'm in," Wonwoo added.

 

"Well Boo?" Hansol teased. "Now you just have to convince the rest of us."

 

* * *

 

Late that night, resting with his chin on Hansol's chest, Seungkwan considered the darkness outside. "Do you want to talk?" he finally asked, dreading the answer. "It's been a week."

 

Hansol's hand tightened on his back, petting one shoulder-blade gently. "Haven't we been talking this whole week?" he asked quietly. "I was never going to make you wait, love. I just knew that if I expected you to talk right there you'd be flustered and upset and tense. It was the first time we met in years. Hell, _I_ was defensive and upset. All I wanted was for it to happen naturally."

 

"You cheated," Seungkwan marvelled as he thought back. All the snippets of late-night conversations, all the talk over barbecue and drinks, the way their bodies had talked to each other's during sex or playing. "You cheating, magnificent _bastard_."

 

Hansol laughed out loud at that. "I have Boo Seungkwan for a partner. How else will I even get on even footing?" He reached to encourage him up for a kiss. "We can still talk. There are things we should discuss. But this past week told me what I wanted to know. I'm ready to try if you are."

 

Seungkwan smiled against his lips. "Of course," he murmured. "I love you too. Let's go make an appointment for those tests early tomorrow morning before we go to the beach? I mean, if you still want to? Then we could take tomorrow night for ourselves, maybe have a small celebration, maybe a little fun?"

 

"I don't know," Hansol teased. "I'm pretty shy, and this'll be my first time. I'm just a gentle flower."

 

Cackling, _snorting_ as he laughed, Seungkwan shook his head and rolled back to rest flat on his back onto his sleeping side, pulling Hansol along with him to spoon and cuddle. "Night, Nonie."

 

"Night, love."

 

* * *

 

Not five kilometres further, Wonwoo stood staring on the balcony, watching the moon’s path over the ocean. The waves were a little distant, but he could hear them thundering and surging; their song filled the air and soothed him a little. Behind him Mingyu and Jisoo were enjoying the last of their nightcaps. It was the last any of them would drink before this business ended; of all of them, only Jisoo was anywhere near concert-ready, and as it was the Golden Couple would probably run their legs off them trying to get back into fighting form.

 

He blinked and looked back over his shoulder as he heard the door to Jisoo’s bedroom shut. As he watched, Mingyu ambled closer on bare feet, stopping to wrap strong arms around him from behind. Standing like that, he could feel the thud-thud-thud of his heart, and he shivered gently as Mingyu’s lips claimed the nape of his neck as their territory.

 

“What was that last bit about?” he murmured as he rested back against him.

 

“Jisoo-hyung was offering to go get us condoms,” Mingyu joked, laughing as he stilled from shock. “No, not really. It was just nice catching up with him? I didn’t want to say goodbye. We should sleep though, I get the feeling tomorrow’s going to be the last lazy day we’re going to have in a while if Seungkwan-ah gets his desires.”

 

He turned in Mingyu’s arms, wrapped arms around him too, and started walking them backwards, back into the lounge, then towards the second bedroom. Jisoo had wanted to give them the largest one, but he liked the cool blues and the angle of this one, slightly tilted away from the public portion of the beach. “Seungkwan-ah always gets what he desires,” he pointed out. “Eventually. In the end. We’re all weak against the pout and the cuteness. But he understands that you’re not on the ‘to get’ list anymore.”

 

Mingyu chuckled at that, retreating until his knees touched the bed and he sat down. “Am I not?”

 

“Not remotely,” he said with cool, calm assurance. “And Jisoo-hyung’s condoms would have been superfluous. I got some for us earlier.” He gave a step back and slowly undid his shirt, tossing it behind him before the condoms sailed over Mingyu’s shoulder to land neatly on the pillow. “And I’ve been fantasizing about this for roughly twelve years of my life, so I’m going to last precisely one second, so stop looking at my crotch like that.”

 

Grinning like a loon with excitement, Mingyu reached to undo his belt-buckle and zip, slowly shucking him out of his pants. “Oh my god,” he said comically. “What depressing underwear, hyung, where’d you get this dismal shade of grey?” He plucked at the elastic before palming Wonwoo’s cock, encouraging it to rise thick and full. “I’m sorry, I can’t sleep with you now. I refuse to sleep with someone with such ugly underwear.”

 

“…that’s okay,” Wonwoo replied as he moved to press him down on his back. “We won’t be sleeping much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. The song for the chapter is Seventeen's '[Without You>/a>'. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=slbymLQxkzo&ab_channel=M2)
>   2. [Just a little collection of scenes. The next update will probably be slow as I handle where to have what happen. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=slbymLQxkzo&ab_channel=M2)
> 



	12. Chapter 12

Wonwoo had dreamt of the time when he might think of Mingyu in a bed-related way. He had dreamt about it for years on end, through the affair Mingyu had with Seungkwan, through his own brief fumbles with relationships, to the long evenings spent in Tuscany dreaming about what might have been. Here, now, faced with the reality of Mingyu pulling his underwear down, he would be the first to admit that he didn’t quite know where to start. Reaching down, he took Mingyu’s hands in his own and removed them from his underwear, pulling them wide as he stepped out of the cloth.

 

“Mingyu,” he murmured, lifting his hands to kiss the palms before he pulled him up straight. “Hold still. I want to undress you.” He dropped his hands, fit word to deed as he slowly inched the thin sweater up from Mingyu’s thighs, to his hips and along tickle-sensitive sides to where he had to wait for him to lift his arms. Every inch of tanned skin taunted him; Mingyu had always been more tan than he was, which he adored. Now, seeing all that tan skin flex and play over cut abs and ribs, to see tiny brown nipples peek out and the line of his collarbones… well, it nearly killed him.

 

He tossed the sweater over his head and leant in to lave a line of kisses, wet with tongue-flicks, along one line, nibbling at the very end of one where it disappeared into the cusp of his shoulder. His hands dropped to Mingyu’s jeans as he pulled back to reach up and kiss his love’s quivering lips, licking and suckling and teasing the pout from them.

 

Below, with the buckle and zip undone, he teased the cloth down as well, easing it away from a narrow waist towards his hips, then down over them to let it fall down his long legs. It was only then that he allowed himself to look down, lips curving into a smile. “And you had the nerve to lecture me about underwear.” He reached with one thumb to tease up along the underside of Mingyu’s cock. “And you don’t wear any? You naughty little shit.”

 

Mingyu laughed breathlessly, then flailed as Wonwoo picked him up and tossed him back onto the bed. He landed with his head nearly on the box of condoms, arms and legs sprawling wide to claim the bed as his territory. “Didn’t feel the need to put any on after this afternoon’s shower,” he said idly, palms caressing the soft, smooth sheets. “The less you put on, the less you have to take off again.”

 

Wonwoo picked up one leg to smirk against a delicate ankle, teeth firm in the flesh of Mingyu’s calf. “Logical,” he approved, and pushed the mile-long leg back and back very slowly, until he had Mingyu folded almost in half, and the man beneath him was whimpering from the slow stretch. It gave him a moment to caress his other palm down-down-down, following the path of muscles and ligaments. Seconds later his lips followed the same path, spending a moment in the crook of his knee before suckling down in a series of tiny, biting kisses.

 

“Holy fuck,” Mingyu sighed out, low voice drawling with pleasure. His toes pointed, other leg sprawling wantonly open in an effort to entice Wonwoo closer to his core. His own hands sought restlessly down his abdomen to his cock, getting only a single tight stroke in before he caught Wonwoo’s glare.

 

“Hands behind your head,” the elder rapper murmured into the flesh of Mingyu’s thigh.

 

“Hyung!” Mingyu whined, but did as he was ordered. Seconds later he blinked as Wonwoo put his leg down and got off the bed. He watched with his mouth gaping open as his hyung returned with one of the bathroom robes’ tie, and was too overwhelmed to protest when Wonwoo carefully tied his hands to the headboard.

 

Wonwoo inspected the knot, made sure it was firm but not too firm. “I don’t trust you,” he said blandly. “You’re like an excitable little puppy, Gyu.” Satisfied, he sat down to kiss his cheek, then the kiss-swollen line of his hips. “No hands tonight. I want to admire you for a bit, see all of you, not be teased into a quick fuck.”

 

Mingyu shivered at the intent behind the words, eyelids fluttering nearly shut as he leant his head back. “Yes, sir,” he got out saucily, even a bit breathily, as he felt the heat in the pit of his belly stir.

 

Wonwoo felt the kick of those words in his arousal, and for a split-second his mind wandered down an entirely filthy little fantasy. “Good boy,” he said ironically, watched it shiver through Mingyu’s body and leant down to worship him.

 

There wasn’t a single bit of skin left unkissed by the time he finished; he mapped Mingyu’s tall lines out with his mouth and hands, from eyelids to the tops of his feet. He admired the way his paler skin looked on Mingyu’s thighs as he encouraged them wide open with a series of delicate little spanks, felt the strength in his legs as he lifted their weight over his shoulder. Lazily, almost indolently, he pressed a kiss just below his balls, then slowly suckled his way up the long length to his tip, rewarded with little spurts of precum to lick up. “You wax?” he murmured against the root of Mingyu’s cock, feeling the amazingly soft skin.

 

“Have to…ah!” Mingyu tried to lie still, but it was difficult. His hips wanted to lift and plunge, to fill Wonwoo’s clever mouth with his cock, to silence his too-agile tongue with the weight of it. “Model. It was just easier.”

 

Wonwoo murmured his understanding into Mingyu’s balls, gently sucking on them before he popped his mouth clean, reached for the lube he had fetched earlier. “If I untie you, are you going to be good and help me prepare you, or should I leave you tied up and just flip you over and do it myself?” he asked, slightly swollen lips ghosting up Mingyu’s ribcage to toy with a small, hard nipple. Distracted, he bit down gently on it and head Mingyu shout something, but spared it little thought until he had what he wanted, a hard, achingly aroused, full little nub on his tongue. “Hm?” he asked around it, drawing the sound out. “What was that!”

 

Mingyu’s head thrashed with pleasure. “…good!” he shouted. “I’ll be good!”

 

Wonwoo laughed softly as he reached up to free the tie, and sat down to watch his lover move and squirm in the sheets, cheeks dusting with red from arousal. “Good boy,” he whispered as he petted his hard stomach, then his hip. “Turn over.”

 

Mingyu turned over as quickly as he could, panting against the pillow. Feeling Wonwoo’s hand on him was such a mind-fuck he wondered whether he’d last any time at all. He tried to swallow, cock aching as he lifted his hips submissively into the air, guided by more little pants. His body knew its place, knew what pleased him even though it had last happened so long ago, and he shuddered as his thighs fell open with the least little touch.

 

“Hold yourself open, pretty baby,” Wonwoo ordered quietly as he squirted some lube into his palm, rubbing it to heat it up. As he did, he shifted to sit between Mingyu’s thighs, leaning in to kiss the gentle swell of one cheek. “Come on, you’re my good boy, right?”

 

Head spinning, Mingyu reached behind himself with both hands to hold himself open, lost in the small fantasy of being a good boy for his hyung. It had never been their dynamic, but the kisses and pats and gentle fondles were working their magic, melting easily with his need for closeness, his desire for skinship. The weight of Wonwoo’s soft approval radiated through him, twisted his need to a fever pitch. “Please…” he got out. “Please, yes, I aaaam…”

 

Swiping one fingertip over Mingyu’s pucker, Wonwoo gently teased at the rim with a slick thumb, then slowly started to glide a fingertip in. His lover was so very tight, but he was patient with the process, gentle, letting drawling words of praise accompany his movements until Mingyu thrashed beneath him with the pleasure, working his hips back against a series of his fingers. Like this, it was the closest he had felt to him yet, with the air a soft, seductive blanket protecting them from the rest of the world. He settled one arm in the crook of his bent back, encouraged his hips a little closer with it, and tried to ignore the ache in his own cock as he skimmed over his prostate with gentle fingertips.

 

Mingyu had long since gone from whining into the bedding to shouting in it, hungry for more even as the fingers stretched him open wide. It had been too long, way too long, and when he merely thought of his hyung’s hands on him he wanted to come. “Wonwoo!” he called, licking his lips and swallowing heavily. “Hyung, _please_. Stop playing with me and fuck me… please! I’m gonna cum if you finger me like that!”

 

At the plea Wonwoo laughed into one cheek, nipping it in victory before he sat back to wipe his hands clean. Moving, he sat against the headboard as well. “Can you help with the condom and come sit on my lap?” he asked. “I want to see your face when it screws up with pleasure.”

 

Mingyu was on him in a flash, greedily tugging and stroking at his cock before he straddled him. It felt like heaven when he slowly impaled himself on the thick length; his hyung might have been a little shorter, but he spread him so wide open that he whined at the pleasurable burn, hips working and gyrating to swallow all of him. Slowly, very slowly he sank down, until his butt met Wonwoo’s thighs and he felt his cock deep in his ass, warm and fat and full. “Screw the condom,” he gasped. “I tested clean just last week, and I doubt you’ve deigned to fuck anyone in over a year.”

 

Wonwoo’s teeth sank into his lip as he felt Mingyu settle on him. “No more taking chances like that,” he lectured quietly in between kisses to Mingyu’s mouth, his neck, anywhere he could reach. “God, Gyu, you feel like a fucking miracle. You’re so pretty like this, _fuck._ ”

 

Laughing shakily, Mingyu rested his hands on Wonwoo’s shoulders and started moving gently, taking it as slowly as he could until he got used to the unusual fullness. “Pretty when I’m full of you?” he teased, seeing a hot flash of arousal in his hyung’s eyes.

 

“Very pretty,” Wonwoo growled. “Such a pretty, pretty baby.”

 

Mingyu mewled at the words, giggling and hiccupping with their impact, and leant his head forward to leant against his hyung’s. He kept the pace slow and thorough until Wonwoo’s hands pinched into his hips and let him feel his nails just a little; startled, he gasped and sped up his pace, back arching. When he felt hands wrapping around his cock to jerk him off, he fell, so lost to the pleasure that he ground himself down on Wonwoo’s cock, fucked himself hard and fast. When Wonwoo reached to take his arms and shackle them behind his back, his eyes fluttered and he lost it.

 

Wonwoo watched with hooded eyes as Mingyu rode him hard and fast and greedily, and sped up his hands’ rhythm. He saw the effect in the lean lines of Mingyu’s belly, felt the fluttering beat of his heart as he kissed his breastbone, and felt it in the cock in his hand. Once, twice, three times he moved his hands, and that was all that the tall man on his lap needed to come.

 

Lost in his pleasure, Mingyu shouted as he felt the explosion tear through him, bouncing and grinding and whining through his climax. His cock shot copiously, covering his hyung’s hands and his chest, but he was concerned with the cock inside him, ass swaying as he tried to get his hyung off.

 

Wonwoo held on until the tall baby on his lap rode himself into whimpering, exhausted overstimulation before he finally came, stifling his groan of pleasure against Mingyu. His hands locked around his hips, held him tight on his lap as he shot and shot, filling him slowly with his cum, ignoring the spasms that jerked and shook his lover. It was only when he finished that he let him rest, still holding him impaled on his slowly softening cock.

 

“Hyung,” Mingyu got out, caught in the grip of acute pleasure. “Hyung, oh my god, you feel so warm inside me, thank you, hyung, thank you…”

 

Tears prickled at Wonwoo’s eyes as he held him close, pulled him into a seated cuddle that saw the lean body relax bonelessly against him. “Thank _you_ ,” he whispered softly against his ear. “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jisoo lay on his bed, ignoring the giggle-thud of the couple’s door closing and stared up at the coffered ceiling. The room was so rich and lush around him, and the bed was the softest he had ever felt. Outside the waves called and lured, and still he had an uncomfortable itch in him. Last night had been a battle to fall asleep; tonight looked to be more of the same, and finally he closed his eyes, tired to the bone. His hand slithered down to get his phone and he flicked through his contact list to a name that he hadn’t uttered since he moved to the USA. Biting his lip, he turned on his side and called it, placing the phone to his ear.

 

It rang perhaps three times before it was cut off. The second call got to four rings. The third time it didn’t even go through. Seconds later though, his Katalk pinged, and he flicked it open to stare at the message.

 

 **Cheonsa:** Don’t call me. I don’t wanna speak to you.

 

His teeth ground into his lip and he tried to ignore the flicker of anger as he typed back.

 

 **ABoy:** Is that your final answer? After three years?

 **Cheonsa:** Are you still on about that stupid question? Shit, stop bothering me, I’m having a nice time. Go talk to your LA fans.

 **ABoy:** I’m back in South Korea.

 

The silence stretched out forever until a call pinged.

 

“What?” the voice on the other side croaked, husky with too much whiskey.

 

 _Still drinking,_ Jisoo thought. _Still drinking even after all this time._ “I’m back in South Korea,” he said softly. “Jeju-do, to be precise. Where are you?”

 

There was a slight scuffle, the sound of voices, and finally the sound of a cigarette lighter. “Fuck, I don’t know. Somewhere? Hwaseong? No wait that was last week. Yecheon?” The voice faded a little. “Hey, where are we?”

 

“Daegu, I think?” came a rough voice. “Gods, I’m having such a fucking trip.”

 

Jisoo’s spine froze in small sections, until he felt like a rock. “Who’s that?” he asked curiously.

 

“Hook-up,” his bandmate’s voice slurred. “I think. His voice is facing.” A swallow. “Face is fading. So you’re back in Seoul, so fucking what?”

 

“Jeju,” Jisoo said patiently. “I’m in Jeju.”

 

“So fucking what?!”

 

Jisoo carefully stopped biting his lip, aware that he might bite straight through it. “SMS me your location,” he instructed. “I’ll be there in two hours. I’m coming to fetch you. This has fucking gone on long enough.”

 

“What? Fuck off, I don’t want to...” The words petered out into tears, and Jisoo couldn’t help wondering whether it was real sadness or whatever the drugs he was on affecting him.

 

“Two hours,” he said, and ended the call. Seconds later, he flicked to another contact. This time it was answered immediately, but with a sleepy voice. “Jisoo-ah?” he voice croaked at him. “Unngh, what time is it?”

 

Jisoo stood to rifle through his things, getting out his wallet and documents, impatiently checking himself in the mirror. “Hyung,” he said crisply. “I’m going to need your cell tracker password.”

 

“What tracker?” Seungcheol asked uneasily. “I’m not sure…”

 

“Seungcheol.” The deliberate informality shut his hyung up. “I know you keep us lo-jacked still. You did it ever since we fucked up and got lost that one time. I need it, please. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn't urgent. It’s way past fucking time. I’m gonna go fetch him.”

 

There was silence for a long time. “Thank god,” Seungcheol said. “I’ll send it.”

 

Two hours later, climbing off the plane he had hastily caught, Jisoo compared the address texted to him to the actual cell location and cursed. The two weren’t even on the same side of town. “Fucker,” he hissed and got the cell tracking app to display real-time data to him as he scooted to the taxi rank, slipping into the one in front. “Im Junyi-ssi?” he asked, reading off the identification card stuck to the window. “I’m sorry to ask you, but it’s an emergency. Can you get me to this address as fast as possible? I’ll pay extra.” He saw the man’s nod, read off the address and strapped himself in.

 

It was the worst ride of his life. He had gotten used to the pace of LA traffic again; Choi-ssi drove like he was possessed, apparently convinced that there was some kind of sliding scale of reward that would come the sooner he got there. Jisoo clung for dear life to his safety belt and said nothing as they entered the rough side of town. So many songs had been sung about these streets, idolised as a forcing-ground by innumerable rap stars.

 

The taxi screeched into a motel parking lot and Jisoo looked around. It was the shittiest place he had ever seen, and that’s saying something next to some of the LA neighbourhoods he had been in.

 

“You sure you want me to drop you here?” the man asked doubtfully. “This is a bad place, customer-ssi.”

 

“I need to pick up my friend, he’s in a little trouble,” Jisoo explained. “I… if you could wait? It shouldn’t take too long.”

 

The driver looked around. “Pay first,” he finally said. “And I drive off if it gets too dangerous, and the meter stays on.”

 

Jisoo nodded and pulled out his card, running it through the payment slot before he pulled out all the money he had on him, seeing the man’s eyes widen at the equivalent of a thousand dollars. “Five minutes.”

 

He ducked out of the taxi and checked his phone again, casting back and forth as the satellites tried to triangulate his position relative to the cell. Finally, led up to an apartment halfway down the line, he thumped his fist against it, hearing the taxi slowly wheel closer behind him.

 

He had to bang on it for a minute before it flew open. “We don’t want… god damn babe, did you order a rent-boy? There’s a Hwarang standing here,” the rough-looking man said, weaving slightly on his spot.

 

“Fuck you,” Hong Jisoo said, and punched him out with one shot. He stepped over the fallen body and considered the pale, long form in the midst of what looked like the longest fucking trip ever, long dark hair messy on the pillows and eyes tiny. His too-thin chest was littered with hickeys, and even beneath the blankets he could see the arch of one pelvic arch.

 

Yoon Jeonghan was no longer an angel, but the ruin of one, and his heart clenched. It was as good that he was on a trip, because he didn’t resist when Jisoo hauled him up straight and plucked ill-fitting ratty clothes on him, keeping arms around him to keep him upright. He got only got him out of the room because he lifted him over his shoulder, and when he scooted out to the taxi he had to get the taxi driver to help him get him inside the car.

 

Pulling on old camp counsellor experience, Jisoo pushed up the sleeves of the shirt he had Jeonghan, checking in the crook of his elbow, the vulnerable hollows of his fragile wrists and finally his collarbones.

 

Saying nothing, the driver passed a pack of wet tissues over and looked forward again, stoically ignoring the two of them. Touched, Jisoo nearly cried at the kindness of a stranger as he started wiping Seventeen’s angel clean. Like this, he stank of chemicals and hash and alcohol, and the beautiful skin he had once had was dirtied and discoloured from what looked like an endless series of rough fucks and fights.

 

When they arrived at the airport, Jeonghan was awake enough to walk, but still out of it, and so he got him on the plane, to Jeju, and finally back to the Silla without too much trouble. His luck lasted to the lift before his angel got noisily sick all over him, the marble of the lift, even himself, body folding. He grimaced and scooped him up in his arms, trying to ignore the fact that he weighed almost as little as a kid. He ignored the sour smell and the scandalised look as he flagged a cleaner down, and carried him into the suite, going to kick on the couple’s door.

 

“We have a problem,” he announced crisply to Wonwoo’s irritated face, ignoring the very naked Mingyu behind him. "I'm gonna need your help."

 

* * *

 

It seemed like no time passed before the others showed up; Mingyu had run to phone them and ask them to come over as Wonwoo helped him struggle Jeonghan into the nearest bathroom. He went into the tub clothes and all, and the lukewarm water discoloured around him like a cloud as Jisoo clambered in to help him stay up straight.

 

“What’s he on?” Wonwoo asked as he tried to get the wet shirt off, throwing it into a stinking puddle into the closest sink. “Holy fuck, what happened to him?”

 

“I don’t know,” Jisoo said. “I couldn’t spot any tracks, but he’s so dirty I can’t be they’re not there. I smelled marijuana. It smelled as if it was tainted with something else.”

 

Wonwoo blinked. “Hyung, how do you even know what pure marijuana smells like?”

 

Jisoo shot him a level look. “I’m from Los Angeles,” he said. “Even if I don’t smoke myself, I’d have to be a fool not to know what it smells like. It’s practically part of the culture there. Get his pants and underwear off too if you can.”

 

Stoically, quietly, they got Jeonghan semi-clean by the time Hansol and Seungkwan showed up, both dressed in what looked like last night’s clothes with Mingyu hovering over their shoulders.

 

Hansol took one look at the situation and stepped closer. “Kwan, phone your family doctor awake,” he ordered over his shoulder, rolling his sleeves up. The order sent Seungkwan skittering to make the call, whilst he stood closer and knelt down next to the filthy tub, taking over the job of keeping Jeonghan steady. Their patient, apparently on the bad end of a trip, was starting to yell and flail; he had to lean out of the way not to get hit.

 

“Mingyu-ah,” Jisoo called, stepping out of the bath and reaching for a towel. “You’re the strongest here still, I think? Between you and Seungkwanie, do you think you can cuddle him into submission? Whatever’s happening to him seems to be getting worse, and I was so preoccupied with getting him out of the room that I didn’t think to take a sample of what he might have taken.”

 

Mingyu nodded firmly as Wonwoo got out of the tub as well. “Third bedroom?” he said, and scooted as Jisoo nodded.

 

Hansol reached into the tub, got a lock on Jeonghan’s skinny, struggling form and hauled him out by main force, grunting as he swung him over his shoulder. The trip to the bedroom was thankfully brief; Mingyu had already pulled the blankets down and spread towels, and the second-youngest dropped the second-oldest as gently as he could.

 

“I got the doctor and a taxi for him,” Seungkwan said as he crept into the room, eyes wide and face unhappy. “And I let them know at reception that he’s to be sent up immediately. I…”

 

“Seungkwanie?” Yoon Jeonghan croaked out, trying to flail free of Mingyu’s hold. “Seungkwanie, is that you? Jeonghannie’s little darling?”

 

Silence fell in the room as they turned to look at the delirious man, then Seungkwan’s worried face.

 

“Hyung?” Seungkwan got out as he nearly fell over his feet to get close. “Hyung, it’s me, I’m here, okay? I’m here!” Resting down on the bed, he turned to hug Jeonghan, ignoring the way the water transferred to him as Jeonghan hugged him tightly, holding on as he started crying. “It’s okay, we’re here, okay? Jisoo-hyung, Wonwoo-hyung, Mingyu-hyung, Hansolie, myself… we’re all here for you. Shh. It’s okay, it’ll be alright, I promise.”

 

Silence fell in the room, broken only by Mingyu and Seungkwan’s soft whispers as they hold Jeonghan through his tears and tried to console him.

 

 

Later, with the doctor come and gone, Jisoo sank down in an armchair and scrubbed at his face. The man had done what he could, and suggested that they take their hyung to the hospital where tests could be done. It had felt like a miracle when he announced he couldn’t see any signs of hard drug use, just malnutrition and general neglect. He looked up dry-eyed as Wonwoo sank down on the couch opposite him, offering a bottle of water.

 

“I’m sorry,” Jisoo said. “I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted to spend your first real evening with Mingyu-ah.”

 

“He’s my hyung,” Wonwoo said quietly. “And so are you. What happened, hyung, all those years ago? I had always thought 95-line was tight with their friendships and you guys practically raised us since you joined. Hell, I even thought you three were in some kind of poly relationship.”

 

Jisoo gave him a tired smile. “Cheollie was too straight for that,” he murmured. “I’m half-surprised he didn’t marry a lucky Carat. No. We were in a relationship, but we kept it very quiet. Cheollie knew, of course, and our manager-hyungnim. When all of you left, Jeonghan was devastated and I thought… well, I thought I could be the hero and take him away from everything because _I_ wanted to get away from everything. So I booked us tickets and asked him to move to LA with me and marry me. We both had money, it’s not taboo over there as it was here still, and… well.”

 

Wonwoo choked on his swallow of water. “Marriage?” he got out.

 

Jisoo shrugged. “It turned out that he not only rightly resented me for trying to make him leave, but that he thought I was trying to chain him down, choke him with a marriage licence. So he said no rather forcefully and like most of the couples in the band, we had a massive argument and a fight, and I left for LA. And he… well, he didn’t take any of it well. Partying and drinking and enjoying himself… I’d be surprised if he has any of his Seventeen money left. You should understand the paradigm of resenting something so much that you go overboard with the opposite.”

 

“Shit,” Wonwoo got out, rubbing at his face as well. “And you never tried again, or to persuade him to stop?”

 

Shooting him a look, Jisoo rolled his eyes. “Every month. Then every three months. Then every half-year. I…”

 

“Joshuji?” a voice trembled from the bedroom, and Jisoo looked up to see Jeonghan leaning there, dressed in his clothes and a little more lucid. “Joshuji, is that you? You’re not a hallucination?”

 

Jisoo got up from the couch and nodded dumbly, then held out his arms as Jeonghan fell into them, crying hysterically. “It’s me,” he murmured into his wet hair. “I’m real. I’m right here, I promise.”

 

“We’ll go and get a taxi,” Mingyu said diplomatically, and everyone scooted out to leave them alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. The chapter starts off with a bang, almost literally. Soft vanilla meanie smut for everyone. 
>   2. A bit more of Jisoo's history, and a tiny bit of what happened to Jeonghan in the past three years. 
>   3. Jisoo actually curses here, sorry about that! 
>   4. The song for this chapter is Seventeen's '[Don't Wanna Cry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zEkg4GBQumc&ab_channel=SEVENTEEN)'. 
> 



	13. Chapter 13

There was no way all six of them could crowd into ER, or the examination room Jeonghan had to go to afterwards so that they could do blood tests. Aware that Wonwoo and Mingyu were in their own little bubble, Seungkwan wandered over to Hansol, wiggling a seat open next to him on the cheap hotel chairs. His hands trembled with the desire to creep under his arm and wait for day to come, all so that he had a less grim lens to judge through.

 

Hansol took a look sideways and reached to take his hand, letting his own body heat soak into the delicate, too-cold fingers. “I bet you wish you had some lo-fi on you right now,” he muttered.

 

For a second Seungkwan was outraged. His head shot sideways, he felt his lower lip jut out, and all the tension evaporated as Hansol squeezed his hand again, calm support in his gaze. “I wish I had the rest of BooSeokSoon, so we could lift the atmosphere together,” he admitted. “But thank you. I’ll leave the lo-fi to you and stick to my ballads.”

 

Hansol spent a moment longer watching him. “This is not your fault, okay?” he finally said. “We all fucked up in our ways. And no,” he hastened when he saw a ‘but’ form on Seungkwan’s face. “We have to take credit for our own stuff, not others’. What happened to Jeonghan-hyung can in no way be blamed on you, it was his own choice.”

 

A ping from his pocket interrupted Seungkwan. He freed a hand, dug out his phone and looked at the chat message. “Seungcheol-hyung heard, he says. He’s on his way down as well, with Soonyoung-hyung and Jihoon-hyung. He says to make sure we put his name down on the medical paperwork, he’ll pay for everything. I think…” He swallowed. “It’s bad of me,” he finally whispered. “But I want to go home and cuddle on our bed, just to forget this morning. Is that possible? Can we do that?”

 

Loosening his hand, Hansol went to speak to their hyungdeul, who nodded and shooed him away. On his way back, he scooped up Seungkwan’s hand for the whole world to see and led him out like that. It was a quiet journey back home, and they took their time wandering up the path from the gate to the door. Inside, that same quiet as they put things away, Hansol taking care of the jackets as Seungkwan stowed keys and wallets, and when they finally slid back into bed, Hansol held out an arm for Seungkwan to curl into, pulling his shorter frame close to spoon behind him.

 

Seungkwan stared at the view outside, the way the light started to slowly win against the darkness, and breathed out a slow sigh. “I don’t want to feel guilty,” he said. “But I do. I could have followed up on him a little better too.”

 

“So could all of us,” Hansol whispered into his nape. “Kwan… Kwannie, listen to me.” He reached to massage his stomach gently as he spoke. “This is what growing up means. We have to start taking credit for our own mistakes and our own victories. Jeonghan-hyung slipped pretty far, that’s true, and yeah, perhaps we should have stuck closer together as a family. But if you take his guilt onto yourself, he won’t ever learn. You’d be depriving him of the lessons you had to learn the past few years. The lessons I had to learn, that we all did. You’d be demoting him right back to a kid again.”

 

“I don’t wanna do that!” Seungkwan said, flinching before he rolled on his back to look up at Hansol. “I don’t want to,” he said a little bit more quietly. “But I’m sad that it has to be like this.”

 

Hansol leant in to peck his lips. “All we can do is provide him strength so that he can stand up now.” Another peck on his mouth, then one on his chin. “Okay?”

 

Seungkwan managed a tremulous smile. “Yes, Nonie.”

 

“Good,” Hansol said, and let his body go slack as he closed his eyes.

 

Seungkwan thought about protesting the heavy weight against his side but it felt good as well, especially when Hansol stretched one long leg out to slip over his. Instead of complaining, he merely threaded his fingers through Hansol’s and closed his eyes as well.

 

* * *

  

He didn’t get much sleep; five hours later the sunlight streaming in through the windows got too much and he struggled away from Hansol’s grip to go and close them, pottering grumpily to the bathroom to use the loo before devotedly looking away from the mirror as he brushed his teeth. There were mornings you could face eye-bags and swollen cheeks, and there were mornings you shouldn’t even begin to punish yourself; this was fast shaping up to be one of the latter. He finished and went straight back to bed, snuggling up against Nonie’s back this time, just so he could press his face into his back and breathe him in.

 

His mind spun as he thought of the changes that had happened in the past week. Them getting back together, all the revelations about their pasts, the emotions. The crazy guilt that had spiralled out of control, and the way the man he was snuggled up to was putting him back together one piece at a time.

 

Hesitantly he reached up to plant a kiss to Hansol’s tangled hair, gently smoothing the locks with his fingers before he burrowed his face in his back again, this time breathing out contendedly. His Nonie smelled like a heavenly mix of body-wash and cologne, a mix that he wished he could bottle and keep with him for dreary days. Ignoring the shiver of his phone, he pressed his hand to Hansol’s strong, spare waist and coasted it down to rest on his hip, closing his eyes happily.

 

“Don’t stop now,” Hansol said, voice baritone with morning roughness.

 

Seungkwan smiled again, keeping his hand just where it was. “Sorry for waking you.” A small, soft pause. “I spoke to my doctor last night. He said those tests we want done can have same-day results these days. Do you… maybe before we head to the hospital we can get them done?”

 

Hansol stilled beneath him, breath hitching for a second. “If you wish?”

 

“I know you’re clean,” Seungkwan murmured into his skin. “And I know I am, but I’d like to do them anyway. One of those adult things?” He finally moved his hand, patting Hansol’s strong thigh before he sat up. “I want to be perfectly confident when we come back and I ask you to make love to me right here? Did you know we’ve not done it in a bed once?”

 

“I know,” Hansol said, rolling to sit up as well. “God, trust me, I know. I’ll go get ready.”

 

Their get-ready time was playful, full of little kisses and pats and laughter, and Seungkwan felt perfectly content as they made their way into town. It was embarrassing as they got their tests done, but they tested negative on the spot, and the clinic promised quick results on the ones that normally take longer. Seungkwan felt just a little bubbly, a little hungry for the evening to arrive.

 

* * *

 

Walking into Jeonghan's room in the clinic he had been moved to felt like a blow to the heart. Somewhere in the night he had been cleaned and dressed, but he still looked out of it, as if he was walking in a world he didn't believe was real. The bed was wide enough for Jisoo to sit on it next to him, and he had his arm around Jeonghan's shoulders, was talking to him gently. In a chair to his side, unexpectedly, Seungkwan saw Seungcheol-hyung, stil possessed of the same strong jaw, the same gentle eyes. Though he was just listening, he held Jeonghan's hand tightly, nearly enough to whiten the skin.

 

"Hyung," Seungkwan got out, feeling the rightness of seeing the hyung line reunited rock through him. All three looked at him, but he moved to Seungcheol first, and walked into a hug that had been too long in coming. They had kept in touch, mostly; they had to, given that Seungcheol ran Pledis these days and watched over the new generation with an eagle eye. Still, business contact was not family contact, and as he breathed in his cologne and buried his face against his collarbone he thanked whoever had seen fit to give him a second chance.

 

He had always loved Seungcheol, not as a lover might, but still truly and deeply, like a beloved older brother. They had clowned around on the stage, joked around off it. Of all the members of Seventeen save Hansol, it was Seungcheol's arms that made him feel safe and at home again.

 

"Seungkwanie," a deep voice whispered against his hair, and his hyung's arms tightened. "It's really been too long."

 

"I want to see him too," Jeonghan demanded querulously as Jisoo slipped off to bro-hug Hansol. "Give over. Cheollie, he's mine too."

 

Seungkwan's chest physically hurt as he let go, received a pat that said 'we'll talk later' and got passed to Jeonghan. He had to clamber up on the bed to hug him, but eventually settled in a curl against the too-thin chest and listened to the surprisingly steady sound of his heart. As he rubbed his cheek there, he felt the individual ribs, their arch into the sternum.

 

"Hyung," he said softly, breathily, as behind him Seungcheol and Jisoo explained that Wonwoo and Mingyu had gone back to the hotel. "Hyung, I didn't know, I'm so sorry. I should have looked in on you."

 

"Seungkwanie," Jeonghan said, voice deeper heard through his chest. "Even if you had, I would still have gone down this path. The devils in our heads are difficult to erase, and I would have had more money to fall faster. This is ok. Seeing you lot is good. I can..." He broke off to shiver. "I just wish things had been different, that Cheollie hadn't sent me that mail."

 

Silence fell, but something was wrong with it, something that made Seungkwan look at the room. Hansol and Jisoo were as confused as he, but Seungcheol... he looked beyond confused, genuinely puzzled.

 

Seungcheol tilted his head. "What e-mail?" he finally said. "I've never sent you one in my life. We always just talked about things?"

 

"You did!" Jeonghan insisted. "Right before Joshuji left for America. I went to speak to you, but the PA told me you were busy, and afterwards you sent me a mail telling me how selfish I had been, and how coming out as gay and marrying him would taint what was left of our group's reputation, that I shouldn't be... that I shouldn't be selfish like Seungkwanie, and that Joshuji only wanted someone to support him and I was easy."

 

Seungkwan had thought the silence in the room poisonous before, but now it was terrible. The words cut at him; his mouth opened on a pained exhalation. To think that his hyung, the one man he idolised as an example of what a good man should be, had said that...

 

Hansol was still looking confused. Jisoo... Jisoo's eyes looked black with rage, cat-like face distorting.

 

"...what?" Seungcheol got out, soundng gut-punched. "I didn't. I _didn't_ , Hannie, I swear! I'm totally fine with you two, I supported it! I even fought for it with the president!"

 

 _Second chances_ , Seungkwan thought. _Second chances. The benefit of the doubt._

 

Hansol cleared his throat. "I don't think he sent it, hyung," he said diffidently. "It doesn't sound like Seungcheol-hyung."

 

"Thank you," Seungcheol whispered.

 

Jeonghan coughed. "Someone _did_ send it. I didn't... I didn't delete it. Every time Joshuji or someone tried to contact me, I'd look at it again just to remember how to be angry and strong. I used to time my trips to it, get mellow at the worst passages..."

 

Jisoo gripped his hands together to calm down. It didn't look like it was working. "We're going to get it, and find out where it came from," he said metedly. "Hansol-ah, that friend of yours, can he do it?"

 

Hansol nodded thoughtfully. "I'll ask him to take a look if Jeonghan-hyung can get me the email."

 

"Friend?" Seungkwan got out. "What friend?"

 

Hansol's expression gentled a little. "A friend with an unorthodox approach to security and civil liberties," he teased. "I was going through a bad patch after the funeral, and I needed my name out of the media. He helped me for a price. It'll be steep, but I think he can do it."

 

Seungcheol's expression firmed. "Whatever it takes," he said, gingerly taking Jeonghan's hand again. "This is for family."

 

* * *

 

Seungkwan stayed at the clinic for a long time that day, even after Hansol left. He and Jisoo went to speak to the doctors, who warned them that it would be madness to expect a miraculous transformation, but that their hyung might make a full recovery. Jisoo had broken down when the throat specialist made a cautiously optimistic prediction for Jeonghan's vocal recovery. Jeonghan... jeonghan slept a lot, fading in and out of consciousness still.

 

Their little family was gaining ground again; he had had to phone the Hyatt for yet another reservation, this time for Seungcheol and the golden couple, who were dropping everything into their assistants' laps so that they could fly out tomorrow. Even Jun and Minghao had confirmed their plans to visit next week. With the grace and ease of a VP, Seungcheol was already collaborating with Jisoo on points to be discussed.

 

Arriving at his place, he hauled the bags of groceries out of the Uber's trunk and stumbled up the incline, shouldering the heavy door open. He had expected to find Vernon outside, maybe in the lounge rapping, but to his surprise he was in the kitchen instead, standing next to a man he had never seen before. Thin, not Korean, a little harried-looking, but his fingertips flew over the keyboard they had on the island with all the grace of a conductor. His eyelids barely flickered as he worked.

 

"Hansol...?" he got out.

 

Hansol waved to him, reached out to pat his shoulder, but kept on staring at the screen. "Shhh," he whispered. "Takeji-san is working magic."

 

Fascinated, Seungkwan went to join them at the island, leaving the groceries where they were but for the box of Melonas, which he stuck in the fridge.

 

"It's too easy to spoof an e-mail if you have access to a company's mailserver," Tajeki said very quietly. "I could make it look as if it came from the Emperor, may the gods preserve his soul. Finding out more is problematic though. I'm coming through Exchange statistics, narrowing down the list of suspects." He spared a glance to the small, old, battered phone on the island, connected via USB.

 

Though Seungkwan could clearly see that there was something going on, it looked nothing like the glossy 'hacking' sequences showed in movies. It just looked like a bit of boring tabulated data, files scrolling by almost too fast to read.

 

"I won't be able to give you specifics, but I'll be able to provide you with a list of suspects. It's a tragedy, a fucking tragedy that this happened. Yoon Jeonghan is God's angel."

 

Seungkwan slowly transferred his gaze to Hansol, who merely entreated more patience with a hitch of his shoulders. Piqued, Seungkwan murmured his apologies and went outside to the balcony, starting a warmup for the first time in forever.

 

It was a tragedy. He didn't have half his range, what he had sounded scratchy and he was out of breath in twenty seconds, way below his best. He wrapped his hands around the railing and stuck to it, sipping water and keeping it slow, all until he became aware of the audience behind him ten minutes later. Takeji-san was standing in the doorway, raptly paying attention, with tears Seungkwan would not have expected in his eyes.

 

He broke off, feeling self-conscious. "I'm sorry," he hastened to explain. "I... my voice... it will get better. I'm so horribly off pitch..."

 

"No," the strange Japanese man said. "It's okay. I just can't believe I'm hearing Jeju's Prince sing. I was never at a concert, I couldn't afford it then, and you had so many other fans. But I followed you devotedly on the internet, and I collected as much as I could... your song 'Habit'? And 'To The Sky'? They saved my life so many times. I listened to them when I was low, and hoped for a better life. I got a little lost, as you can see."

 

"Takeji-san," Seungkwan said quietly. "We didn't deserve fans like you. I know it's too late maybe but i'll sign whatever you have. And if we ever have a concert again, I'll get you the best seat in the house." He didn't expect the man to storm him, but he got his arms open in time and hugged him for all he was worth, thinking of all the millions of Carats there once was, and the incredible loyalty they had displayed.

 

"Takeji-san!" Hansol called. "Your screen is flashing?"

 

They ran in together and Takeji acknowledged the alert, pulling up a list with three names. Two were patently ridiculous: Bumzu and Jihoon's names were flagged a dark orange and yellow. At the top of the list, a name that Seungkwan hadn't seen in ages, marked in blaring red: the former vice-president of marketing, and he felt rage well up in him.

 

Cheong Geum.

 

"Kwan," Hansol whispered, sounding as abhorred as he felt. "Isn't that the guy that tried to get Jeonghan-hyung to pay him in favours for more schedules and drama roles?"

 

Speechless, Seungkwan nodded, and felt rage suffocating him.

 

* * *

 

The evening was shading towards twilight when Takeji-san finally left. Seungkwan felt tired to the bone, and wordlessly stowed the groceries as Hansol went to take a swim. The exercise would calm him and the silence would give Seungkwan a moment to destress. The chat group was going wild about the info they had provided, and he muted the conversation with a short explanation before he went to get the things he had bought for the night.

 

He kept it simple in the bedroom. No toys, no lingerie, just candles lit throughout the room in a myriad of small hurricane lanters he had picked up for a steal. They made the space look warm and golden, allowing the tension to fade a little as he changed the sheets, made everything up fresh and went to take a bath. Somehow he felt a little cleaner sitting in the hot, fragranced water, even though he stared moodily at his knees and thought dark thoughts.

 

Hansol joined him later on, slipping his brine-smelling body in behind his, and they soaked wordlessly for a while before he sighed and patted at Seungkwan's stomach. "I'll understand, you know, if you don't want to do anything tonight? It's been a hell of a day."

 

"Mhm?" Seungkwan said. "No, I want to. I want to test out our bed, promise, I'm just kind of dumbstruck." He craned his head sideways to collect a kiss, nose scrunching. "You taste like the sea."

 

Hansol's arms tightened a little more. "And you taste of Melona," he rebutted, smiling. "Sweet. Takeji-san was pretty impressed with you. He always did have a thing for Vocal Unit." He leant forward, resting his forehead on Seungkwan's shoulder to peck little butterfly kisses along his back. "I think you might have replaced Jeonghan-hyung in his affections when you gave him that hug though." Pouting teasingly, he trailed the kisses away. "I was all jealous."

 

"Nonie, all my hugs belong to you already," Seungkwan laughed, turning in his lover's arms to straddle his lap. Biting his lip, he reached for the new sponge he had splurged on, lathering it so that he could scrub Hansol clean. He spent long moments on it, working from arms to chest to shoulders, until Hansol's eyes were black with arousal. I love the way Jeju smells on you," he admitted quietly. "The sea mixed with your cologne and your body does things to me, Nonie."

 

Hansol's eyes half-lidded, tonguetip visible as he bit it. "So I see," he teased as he looked downwards, where Seungkwan's erection was already more than half-full. "Do you have another sponge?"

 

Bathtime turned into foreplay as they scrubbed each other clean, until Seungkwan's legs felt like jelly and Hansol's hands bit impatiently into his flesh to help stady him. Drying off did nothing to stop the flames running through him; he muttered a complaint as he was pulled back time and again to have another patched wiped dry, too eager to get to their bed. When he finally did, he scrambled on top of it and turned to watch Hansol wander closer.

 

Watching him was such a _treat_ , Seungkwan decided with a delighted sigh. He loved him, he would have loved him even if he didn't look like he did, but with the twist and turn of muscles, the way his strong thighs flexed and his erect cock bobbed gently, he was a treat to the eyes. It made Seungkwan's mouth dry and gave him an idea; sitting closer to the edge, he pulled him down on his back and eagerly straddled him, eyes nailed on the swollen length before his eyes.

 

"Hold still," he ordered regally and swooped down to engulf the head in his mouth, just for a momentary taste, before he sat back on his heels with his head tilted. "Delicious, Nonie, you taste illegally delicious."

 

Hansol laughed softly, propped up on his arms. "You know, Kwan, you like sucking cock more than anyone else I've ever known. Doesn't the taste get to you?"

 

Seungkwan scoffed, fitting his hands delicately around the straining length to grip and squeeze, playing, stretching the movements out slowly. "I have a refined palate," he argued. "And you have a refined taste. It's salty and a little sweet, but with a tang? Gosh, Nonie. I've loved _your_ cock since we were sixteen, but you made me wait until we were twenty-two! I’ve got needs! I mean, not that I want to suck a stranger on the street…"

 

Hansol shook his head and reached up to thumb at Seungkwan's bottom pouty lip, pushing gently to slip into his mouth to stroke his tongue. "I'm sorry? In my defense, I thought I was straight."

 

Sucking slowly at the thumb in his mouth, Seungkwan closed his eye to revel in the salty-sweet taste of Hansol's skin. He flicked at it with his tongue, suckled until it was taken from him with a pop. Slowly, keeping his eyes on Hansol's half-lidded ones, he gently lapped at his cock again, laving slowly from root to tip until it was wet and noisy with each smack of his lips. He worshipped the strong veins up the side, tickled his tongue tip in underneath the sensitive head until his lover groaned.

 

"Be careful with your throat, baby," Hansol cautioned as Seungkwan licked his lips clean, hands feathering down the vocalist's precious neck. "Not too deep, as much as I like knowing that I wrecked you."

 

Seungkwan paid him no attention. Instead, nibbling at his lips, he breathed on the wet tip, then sunk down over it. Down, down, down, swallowing greedily, until the pleasure of the thick length weighing his tongue down caused him to give a little wiggle of pleasure. He pulled free, sank down again, and slowly worked up to the full length despite Hansol's hand in his hair, swallowing against his gag reflex.

 

"Fuck," the taller breathed, thudding his head down on the bed. "C'mon, baby... shit, that’s not fair…"

 

Hunched over his Nonie, Seungkwan hummed his approval of the cursing, looked up with wicked eyes. He never let the cock in his mouth escape, but he let it distend his cheek because he knew Hansol got off on dominating him, and fell to sucking in earnest. Ten seconds, twenty, twenty-five before he gasped for breath, lips puffy and eyes shimmering with the pressure, but he dove right back in, feeling the thick length push away all other thought as he let it fuck his throat.

 

Lost in his enjoyment, he didn't realise he was drooling until Hansol gently wiped at his mouth’s one corner, and at the head-pat he sat up obediently, gasping as he swallowed the mix of precum and saliva down. "Hmm," he murmured, voice already a little raspier, reaching to press his thumb into the little slit to coax more of Hansol's taste out. "Come on, Nonie," he whispered. "I can handle it, remember?"

 

Hansol muttered something filthy and sat up to lean against the headboard instead, spreading his legs and grabbing Seungkwan's hair to lead him back to his cock. His cheeks were so dusted with rose it looked like blush, and when Seungkwan started swallowing him down again he moaned long and low, encouraging him down, pressing until he finally swallowed him down to the root. He held him there, until Seungkwan's luscious ass began to squirm, until he felt delicate hands petting gently at his inner thighs, begging wordlessly.

 

Seungkwan felt like whining, but his mouth was too full, his breathing as rushed as his heart that thudded so loudly he was afraid it would burst. Pleasure softened his spine, made him pliable, so that when Hansol let him go, he merely took a deep breath, mewled out his pleasure and started working him in earnest. No inch of skin survived untouched by his tongue, nor did he stop the teeny-tiny little nibbles that saw Hansol hiss and jerk with pleasure.

 

He earned the way Hansol fucked his face so thoroughly with both hands on his head, worked for the way his stomach tightened, and in the end as he wrapped his hands around the fat cock and suckled hungrily at the tip, he nearly came as he earned his reward. Cum filled his mouth, threatening to drip from the seal his mouth made, but he persevered, licking and sucking until he trembled on the edge, precum spilling fruitlessly over his belly.

 

Hansol had to urge Kwan to free him, gut knotted with pleasure at the sight of him. His eyes were so watery and soft, and his lips swollen and red and he looked gone, fucked beyond belief. "That's enough," he whispered. "Come on baby, take a breath for me."

 

Seungkwan didn't want to take a breath. He wanted to beg for another go, but he sat back reluctantly. "Nonie," he purred, voice absolutely wrecked. "Nonie, may I suck you hard again?" His hips shimmied. “Nonie, please, I want you in my ass as well. I don’t wanna cum until you’re there, okay?”

 

Shivering, Hansol nodded, but pulled him close first to ease the tremble from his lover's limbs. He pulled up the towel from the floor to wipe his belly clean before he leant in to kiss him slowly, hungrily, until all he could taste was Seungkwan and himself. "Give me just a few minutes, baby, okay?" One hand moved to anchor his back, and the other cupped around his ass, stroking it gently as he pulled the shorter down on him. "Close your eyes for a few minutes. Just a few."

 

Seungkwan's heart broke for the second time that day, but this time with joy as he felt Hansol gently backing him away from the edge, trusting in his strong hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. Some more information on Jeonghan, and the first view of Seungcheol. 
>   2. This chapter was sprawling so much, I had to cut the sex in half, sorry! 
>   3. The song for this chapter is BTS' '[Euphoria](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qEWoveE3gt0&ab_channel=YukiSatachi%5Baftaehyung%5D)', specifically the longer one on Love Yourself: Answer. 
>   4. I need to stress that Cheong Geum is a fictional name. I don't even know if the company has a VP of marketing. This is just a story. 
> 



	14. Chapter 14

The candles flickered a little from the movement of the blanket as Hansol pulled it up over Seungkwan, rolling so they were on their sides instead. It cost him a moment’s flicker of attention to palm the ass he loved so much, pulling one cheek aside to rut into the crease, and settled like that, murmuring his pleasure with the situation. He didn’t really need the recovery, but Seungkwan had looked wild at the end. “Not that deep again, okay?” he murmured, leaning up a little to press a kiss to the shell of his ear, then his abused throat. “Next time I’m going to paddle you until you learn how to take care.”

 

Seungkwan swallowed and nodded, back curving so he could wiggle his way fully back into Hansol. “Promise,” he pouted. “Nonie… I’ve been thinking. Even if we go back to singing, even if we somehow manage to find a dorm to fit most of us and they want to live together, I… I wanna share a room with you, okay? I don’t want to lose this again.”

 

Hansol pecked his head. “You’re not going to lose this,” he said patiently. “Kwan, I know you’re afraid, okay? We’re grown now, we’re not insecure and scraping anymore. We both know what we want, and we’ll keep it.” He patted one lean flank, gently pinching his narrow waist before his hand moved to rest on his hip again. “Hey… did I ever tell you what my real favourite part of you is?”

 

“Nonie, you told the whole world. My ass.”

 

Hansol laughed softly. “It’s your heart,” he said. “Although I have to admit your ass is a really close second.”

 

Seungkwan bit his lip and breathed a little more freely, working his hips back against the thick shaft between his cheeks. “I think my ass is disappointed now,” he muttered faux-mournfully.

 

“Your ass will have to get over it,” Hansol advised him ruthlessly. “It’s only second choice in my affections now.”

 

Silence fell between them, not as toxic as the ones they shared in their youth, but gentle, something that filled hearts instead of emptying them. He leant in to press a kiss against Seungkwan’s shoulder. “I’ve been thinking,” he finally muttered. “It’s lovely that we’re putting everyone up at the Silla, and that we’re keeping the space to ourselves, but I want to have our group here too, if that’s possible? Even if it’s just for a week or so, so that everyone can bond again. We have five bedrooms and most everyone’s going to group up anyway, and we can get some beds for the corner of the lounge? And it’ll keep Jeonghan- _hyung_ here where everyone can watch him.”

 

Seungkwan stared at the folds on his pillow as he considered that. On one side, this place was his querencia, his soul, where he didn’t want to admit anyone but Hansol. On the other side… “It’ll be cheaper than Silla suite fees, at least,” he said pragmatically. “And it’ll mean that we’ll have to get full-scale furniture in, not just the small bar fridge. Or we can put them in the basement.”

 

Hansol blinked. “This place has a basement?”

 

“The house was sunk deep into the rock for stability and to protect against natural disasters,” Seungkwan said, slowly working his hips in gentle circles as he thought. “There’s a space as large as the house down there, and it should be somewhat clean? The previous owners used it as a movie theatre. I just didn’t know what to do with it myself. There’s a door hidden on the other side of the house. I’ll show you.”

 

Hansol considered him, trying to ignore the little flash-fires of pleasure firing up his spine. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he said softly as he edged away to let Seungkwan rest on his back. Like this, with hair straggling on the pillow and locks stuck to his forehead, not to mention cheeks still flushed, he took his breath away. He leant down to kiss him gently along one cheek. “And this is not about sex. I just want… us back together. All of us.”

 

Seungkwan smiled up at Hansol, wiggling until he could pull him over into a straddle across his hips, swollen lengths slowly rubbing together. “No more beach sex,” he teased. “Or sex-sex, Nonie.”

 

“Boo,” Hansol said very seriously. “If you think we’re not going to have sex just because they’re in our house, you’re mad; just for that you don’t get to suck me off again.” Scooting to the side, he smacked his flank. “On your knees,” he ordered as he switched the lights off totally, then made for the window to open the curtains and the doors to the outside. The roaring of the waves intensified and for a moment he pinched his eyes shut and just listened. The sound of the waves was in his blood now, like Boo Seungkwan. He couldn’t do without them for long.

 

When he returned, it took him a second to find the second bottle of lube, time that Seungkwan used to wriggle eagerly over on his stomach to present his ass into the air. Feeling devilish, he uncapped the lube and squirted some onto his ass-crack without warming it first.

 

Hissing at the cold, slick feeling, Seungkwan directed a glare over his shoulder, only to melt as Hansol shot him one of his wide, wicked grins in the moonlight. “Devil,” he accused, wiggling his hips. They stilled as Hansol parted the cheeks with his thumbs, letting the lube slide down slowly, cooling him until it caught on his rim. There was a long finger there to catch it and push the slick liquid inside him, rather more gentle than normal. Gentle was good, gentle was what he wanted after earlier, and he mumbled his appreciation.

 

Hansol leant to kiss one cheek, keeping his touches soft and simple but insistent, slowly working his Boo open. It was only when the lube warmed up, when Seungkwan’s sighs sounded sweetly in the night air that he helped him down to his back again, pressing in between his legs. “Boo,” he murmured. “My beautiful, beautiful Seungkwan. I love you, ok? So, so much.” One hand on each knee convinced them to crook and lift, moving to his shoulders before he reached to press the swollen tip of his cock to Seungkwan’s entrance. One move of his hips, one slow slide, and he glided slickly into him, biting his lip at the feel of the warm, tight heat.

 

Seungkwan rested his hands on the bed, intertwining them with Hansol’s as he leant down with arms on each side of him, lifting his head for a series of small, sweet kisses. It felt like magic, like they were somehow back to the magical days of their youth, wrapped in a bubble of ocean waves and warm night air. His heart melted and his soul became still and quiet at Hansol’s compliments; when he moved it was gentle and languorous as well, preserving the mood between them. Somehow tonight it felt like making love, not fucking, and he felt his eyes fill with tears. “I love you too, Nonie,” he whispered. “Always.”

 

With the rounds earlier they had enough control to take their time, and didn’t speed up to fall over the cliff in a rush. It felt just a little sacred, the space they formed with their bodies’ even movements; Seungkwan had his chance to trace the lines of Hansol’s arms, his sides, feel the muscles in his abs and butt work; when he slid his legs down to hook them over the curve of his ass instead, he reached out to hug him close, pressing words of love into the skin of his shoulders, his neck, the small shells of his ears.

 

It was the first time in ages that they came together, so attuned to their partner that all it took was a breathy, surrendering moan from Seungkwan to pull Hansol over the edge with him. They collapsed into a sweaty, loving heap, and he murmured at the feeling of pulses of wet heat joining the lube inside him. Restful for a moment, he grumbled and clenched his Nonie tighter to him as the other wanted to pull out. “I want to feel you,” he whined softly. “Stay on me for a little while longer, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Hansol murmured, and relaxed down on him.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, phoned awake by Seungcheol- _hyung_ to tell them to get their asses out of bed, Seungkwan felt like a creaky bear, and spent much longer in the shower than normal. He hadn’t expected Hansol to join, and half-jerked as a hand stuck around the edge of the glass wall, holding out a phone in a waterproof pouch to him. “Seokmin- _hyung_ ,” Hansol mouthed to him, stole a kiss and went to go and take his own shower.

 

Blinking, Seungkwan held it up to his ear. “Hello?” he rasped. “Seokmin- _hyung_?”

 

“Kwannie!” came Seokmin’s sunshine voice, still as loud and boisterous as ever. “I hear you’re organising a get-together, did you lose my invitation along with my number? Are you well? You sound like you’ve got a wicked chest cold.”

 

Seungkwan swallowed, smiling unwillingly. “I was going to phone you today,” he pouted. “And Channie too. I hope you two can make time in your schedules? I’ll send you some tickets if you can; I know that the Golden Couple are coming down today sometime, so…”

 

“No need,” Seokmin said airily. “We’re here on the airport with them. Soonyoung- _hyung_ managed to pull some strings, and Seungcheol- _hyung_ wants us out of the company whilst they do the forensic audit; he’s like a bear with a sore tooth at the moment. We’re landing in about two hours, I’m calling to hear if you can pick us up?”

 

“Boo Seungkwan,” another voice interrupted. “You sound like a goddamn wreck. What the hell did you do these past three years, gargle with rocks?”

 

 _Lee Jihoon._ “No, Jihoon- _hyung_ ,” he said sweetly, secure in teasing since he was so far away. “It’s nothing you and the other half of the Golden Couple hadn’t done. But don’t blame Hansol, okay?”

 

“Oh my god, you reprobate child…”

 

Seungkwan laughed. “So that’s five people then? Chan-ah, anyone extra on your side? We have rooms here, we’ll just have to look for beds.”

 

“No, _hyung_!” Chan’s strong voice came. “And… um…”

 

“Seungkwanie, you don’t have to get an extra space for me either,” Seokmin said.

 

“But _hyung_ , your fiancée? Isn’t she coming with?”

 

“She… it’s a long story, but I’m a free man, I guess you could say?” Seokmin said, unwontedly serious. “So can you pick us up? I hear everyone else except Jun- _hyung_ and Minghao-ah are already there, are you sure you’ll have space?”

 

“Oh. Tell me later?” BooSeokSoon had been so close, so very close that Seungkwan’s heart ached anew. “Yes, _hyung_ , we have space for everyone, I promise. If you don’t mind helping us move furniture, that is.”

 

“Alright, will do! I’ll send you the SMS, okay? Bye-bye, Kwannie!”

 

“Bye, _hyung_ ,” Seungkwan said thoughtfully as he ended the call. He took his time washing and shampooing, and a little more to dry his hair before he left. Catching a glimpse of sleeveless-shirt-and-cargo-shorts Hansol down the hallway, he slipped into shorts and a shirt himself, sticking his feet into his most comfortable slides before moseying out. “Nonie, we need to go and fetch the _hyungdeul_ and Channie at the airport in about two hours, and I’ll need to go and talk to my brother-in-law about emergency furniture, will you help?”

 

“Already organised,” Hansol replied, handing over a mug of rooibos tea. “Wonwoo- _hyung_ and the leader line’ll come here, so we can get Hannie- _hyung_ settled in, and Mingyu- _hyung_ volunteered to go shopping with you if you can pick him up at the Silla. I’ll keep the fort and then go and pick them up at the airport, okay?” He pecked a kiss onto Seungkwan’s nose. “You just concentrate on furniture and food.”

 

Smiling, Seungkwan gulped down his tea, collected another kiss and made for the rental car.

 

“And drive safely!” Hansol called after him.

 

“Will do!”

 

* * *

  

Hours later, laden down by a van full of groceries and miscellaneous items, Seungkwan grinned as Mingyu goggled at the house atop his driveway. He had barely made it outside when a flying body tackled him into the van, and Soonyoung’s excited high-pitched squeaks filled his ears. “ _Hyung_!” he complained happily, hugging back. “ _Hyung_ , ouch, have you grown stronger? You don’t look any older! Did everyone arrive safely?”

 

Soonyoung laughed loudly, raked Mingyu into a hug as well, and squished them both. “Everyone’s here but Junnie and Minghao-ah,” he said. “Most of them are down on the beach, but I said I’d wait inside for you…”

 

“Lies,” a meted voice came. “He ran up the beach steps like a puppy when he heard the van.”

 

Seungkwan pulled free to look at his shortest _hyung_. Lee Jihoon hadn’t aged either, perhaps thanks to a good skincare routine, perhaps because he was just that epic. “ _Hyung_ ,” he said, feeling tears gather in his eyes, and got in a tight, back-clapping hug. “ _Hyung_ , I thought you could get him to calm down.”

 

Jihoon wrinkled his nose. “Don’t sass,” he advised, elbowing Seungkwan before going to hug Mingyu. “Nothing can get him to calm down.”

 

“Kwannie?”

 

The third voice, the third member of BooSeokSoon, just a few steps before Chan; Seungkwan practically sobbed as he went to hug Seokmin, then Chan, holding onto them with tight, regretful arms. For a few seconds it was a madhouse as everyone tried to hug everyone else, much like the first time they had celebrated a win.

 

When they finally made it into the house, laden down with bags and hampers and what felt like a ton of food, it was equally noisy inside. The doors stood wide open, with bright towels scattered all around. “Hey,” Wonwoo muttered as he came to collect a kiss from Mingyu (who quivered like a happy puppy at the public display) and bags. “Jeonghan- _hyung_ said he wanted to see the beach, so everyone else is down there. The furniture came an hour ago. I hope you don’t mind, Seungkwan-ah, but we already did kai-bai-bo for the bedrooms.”

 

“I’ll help to arrange everything!” Mingyu called happily. “Gosh, this house is huge! Who got the bedrooms?”

 

“Seungkwan-ah and Hansol-ah are in the main one,” Jihoon said, digging through the bags for a bottle of Coke before he started unpacking into the large, gleaming new refrigerator. “Then it’s Jeonghan- _hyung_ and Jisoo- _hyung_ in the blue one, Channie and Seokmin-ah in the one next to that, and myself and Soonie in the one opposite. Wonwoo- _hyung_ and Mingyu-ah in the last one – Cheol- _hyung_ said he’d take the couch for now, at least whilst we get room downstairs ready.

 

“And the sound system is still intact downstairs!” Chan enthused, piling Mingyu’s arms full of bedding. “So we can have a party down there, or sing…”

 

Seungkwan tried to blink tears out of his eyes. “I’d love that,” he said. It felt overwhelming to have everyone around him again, but happy as well, filling his heart like the bubbles in champagne. “I…”

 

Wonwoo reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder. “Later,” he said easily. “Let’s talk when all of us are here and just enjoy ourselves today, okay? I’ll help you take the meat and stuff down to the beach, Hansol-ah’s setting the grill up there, and Seungcheol- _hyung_ ’s been asking for a beer.”

 

“I’ll help!” Seokmin yelled, collecting another armful of bags for the kitchen. “Soonyoung- _hyung_ , can you help me with these quickly? We’ll bring the beers!”

 

Seungkwan stared as everyone split up and his house was suddenly as full of activity as a swarm of bees. Gulping, he wiped his eyes clear and nodded, making for the tubs of marinated meat he had gotten for tonight’s party.

 

 _Let it remain this easy,_ he prayed to whoever was listening. _Let it remain this easy, please._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. Just a short update to get back into the swing of things, with a little bit of very soft smut. 
>   2. Most of the boys are there by now, with hints that something's up with DK. More next chapter! 
>   3. This chapter is mostly setup for the serious talks to come when they're all together. 
>   4. The song for this chapter is BTS' '[Intro: Serendipity](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BEMaH9Sm3lQ&ab_channel=ibighit)'. 
> 



	15. Chapter 15

Seungkwan woke up slowly, feeling the sun curve over his naked back. He was alone in bed, but he heard the shower going. Before he could think of napping a little more, he rolled out of bed and wandered inside to collect his morning kiss. Seconds later Hansol’s hands yanked him in underneath the hot water as well, and he giggled as he got the best scrub of his life. He lost the giggle somewhere during the quickie, legs limp and Hansol’s hand over his mouth, but when he staggered out of the shower he felt happy and loved and cheered up.

 

The house had life around him as he ambled out into the main room; though Wonwoo was napping on the sofa the doors to the patio stood open and the members of the Performance Unit were on it, warming up. He went to join them after starting the kettle, and groaned as he found out how much less flexible he had become, especially when Chan laughed at him and Soonyoung rolled his eyes, patiently coaxing him along.

 

The sound of voices along the edge of the house drew his attention and he wandered around. There, ensconced under a thin blanket on one of the loungers, Jeonghan-hyung sat watching the pool as it filled slowly. Although Jisoo was there as well, poking into the small shed, it was Takeji-san that sat on the lounger next to Jeonghan, holding his hand and speaking to him quietly. There was an intensity to the small Japanese man’s hunched frame; the fact that Jeonghan not only allowed the touch but clung to it amazed Seungkwan.

 

He wandered over to Jisoo. “Hyung…?” he questioned softly.

 

“Hannie wanted to meet him,” Jisoo said softly as he poked through the dusty rack of wine, looking over his shoulder to the pair seated on the loungers. “It turns out that not only is he a fan, but he has some idea of what Hannie is going through. The drugs, I mean. Takeji-san is a recovering addict too. I didn’t know that, did you?”

 

Seungkwan shook his head slowly. “I didn’t,” he muttered. “He said that when he was younger he couldn’t afford concerts, but I didn’t know it was that.” He paused as he saw the way Jisoo handled the bottles, the quiver in his fingers. “Hyung… you’re very angry?”

 

“I get angry too, Seungkwan-ah,” Jisoo said metedly. “I’m not always calm and quiet.” His hand fisted around one of the rack supports, clenched until he was white-knuckled. “Cheollie flew back earlier to go and verify the findings, but it turns out it’s not the first time that that bastard did something like this. Do you remember that long stretch when Pristin didn’t have any comebacks? Or After School? I want to _burn him_. I want to feel his neck between my fingers and then _burn him_. Not even full idols, Seungkwan-ah. He tried this on trainees. The forensic team tracked down some messages… the man was a predator, and we never knew.”

 

Seungkwan was aghast, uncertain what to say. He felt his mouth gaping open, and jumped as cool, quiet, Gentleman Joshua punched the wall hard enough to grate at his skin and tear it over his knuckles. Across the pool, the two speaking turned their heads like hunting dogs. With fear thick in his mouth, he reached to encapsulate his _hyung’s_ fist in his hands, keeping it away from harm. Jisoo struggled against him for a moment, but tears flowed seconds later, and he had one of his eldest _hyungdeu_ l rocking against him, jerking at the force of his angry sobs.

 

“Give him to me,” Jeonghan muttered moments later.

 

Seungkwan turned his head and nodded, giving over Jisoo’s form to Jeonghan before he lead Takeji-san away. “Takeji-san…” he struggled.

 

“I would never tell,” the small man said, quiet voice firm. “Never, ever, ever.”

 

Seungkwan took a deep breath. “Thank you. Actually though, I wanted to hire you. There have been some articles already where it’s rumoured that we’re getting together again, and fans are sometimes a little bit invasive, I was wondering whether I could hire you to not only keep our families’ details safe, but if we ever went on to a tour again, whether you’d like to be our security advisor? It’s clear that Hansol-ah trusts you. You could see everything from backstage if you want. I… if you want?”

 

“Boo Seungkwan-ssi,” Takeji-san said with a little bow. “It would be an honour.”

 

====================================

 

Seungcheol returned half a day later, just as everyone was piling out of the ocean into the house to skip the worst part of the day’s sunlight. He looked tired and fierce, a side of him Seungkwan had never seen before. He had always had a razor jaw, but now it was taut with tension as he motioned all of them to sit down. They piled on the sofa and each other like puppies, falling quiet against the fire in his eyes.

 

“I’m not going to go into too much detail,” he said as he sank down on a folding chair, shrugging his jacket off and rolling his sleeves up. “I’ve handed the proof we’ve found so far to our legal representatives. They will be trying to keep this out of the press as much as possible, but it’s certain that it’s going to cause a large splash. Just the reparations alone will be tough, even if the case goes to court. If it wasn’t for the fact that the company was still privately-owned our stock would plummet like a dating scandal drop.”

 

Seungkwan sat forward. “I have an idea,” he said softly, drawing strength from Hansol’s hand on his back. “This isn’t why we’ve gathered everyone up, but perhaps we should let the press report on the whole thing. The reputable press? If we’re honest and transparent in our efforts, I think the fans will understand. And we hold a concert, a real Pledis concert, with all the _sunbaenim_ and _hoobaenim_ we can gather up. If they don’t want to come, then that’s fine, but we let it be known that all proceeds for the concerts, beside the staff salaries, will go to the victims. Not immediately, but I think it could work.”

 

Jihoon’s breath was a thin whistle between his teeth, and Wonwoo’s fingers beat a nervous dance on Mingyu’s kneecap.

 

“I’ve missed all of you,” Chan said softly from his perch on the sofa’s arm. “I’ve missed performing with my _hyungdeul_.”

 

Seungkwan took a shaking breath. “Most of the trouble in the old days… most of it revolved around me, and I’m sorry. I’m _sorry_. I don’t know how to apologise to any of you, let alone look you in the face. I let all of you down just as we could get together as a group again. I made such a selfish decision.”

 

The guys watched him, some of them cool, some of them with tears in their eyes.

 

“You’re our little brother, moron,” Jihoon said at length. “And yes, you were troublesome, but so were all of us. We’ve each had our own issues.” He paused. “I’ve been thinking about songs,” he admitted. “Some of the stuff I write isn’t right for the younger generation. There are a lot of mature topics we can take on now, if we do this.”

 

“He’s got so many songs!” Soonyoung said happily. “My Hoonie’s been a lyric-writing machine since last we talked. I’m with him, ok? It’s not fair that we forget the past, but I vote that we don’t let it control our future. If we want to do this, let’s do this like the old days!”

 

“I’ll lie down on stage and sing if I can’t keep up,” Jeonghan said wistfully. “I’ve done it before.”

 

“What about you, _hyung_?” Chan’s soft voice came again as he looked towards Seokmin. “You, um, you have the most to lose.”

 

Seungkwan blinked at that. “What’s he talking about?” he asked curiously. “ _Hyung_?”

 

Seokmin looked paralysed, like a mouse caught before a circle of predators before he sighed. “He means that my fiancée has decided that she doesn’t want to have a husband that might be on the road and touring again. She warned me if I came down here there was a chance that I’d not see her again. She’s a _chaebol_ heiress, and her father had some things to say when first we started dating. It’s not respectable enough, I guess. My stint at Kyunghee University as a professor was more their speed.”

 

Seungkwan wasn’t the only one that gaped.

 

“But,” Soonyoung said, face crumpling. “But you love music and performing. It’s what you are, Seokmin-ah, how do they expect you to dim like that?”

 

Seokmin gave an uncomfortable shrug. “Not everyone can have everything they want in life,” he finally said. “But I remembered how excited I was when I heard we might be getting together again, and how I looked forward singing with everyone again. Chan and I talked a lot last night as well since we couldn’t sleep well…” He broke off to side-eye Mingyu and Wonwoo, then continued as if nothing had happened. “This place is special.” He transferred his gaze to the view outside. “The waves felt like the sea in my heart, and then the sun came up, and I understood. As much as I love her, how can I be with someone that doesn’t support all of me?”

 

“That’s true,” Seungcheol said softly, turning his chair around to rest his arms on the back, arm muscles showing up sharply from that movement. “I feel we’re all a little wiser now. We’ve had exposure to the outside life, we sorted our own minds out. But even if we do this, we’ll have to practice first. I’ll have to train an assistant to take over, and the Golden Couple as well.”

 

“Don’t _call_ us that,” Jihoon said irritably. “It’s bad enough you got everyone at work started on that. I… hey, no! Get away, okay, get away!”

 

“Jihoonie!” Soonyoung called happily, pouncing on his boyfriend to hamster-hug him.

 

They all stilled at Jeonghan’s rough chuckle. “It’ll take time for me too,” he said. “I’ll need to go through withdrawal and be careful with my voice, and work to regain my muscle tone. I certainly think we should wait for Jun-ah and Minghao-ah too, perhaps they can’t make it? But I’d be willing to try, and Joshuji said he could cancel his contract…”

 

“Wonwoo- _hyung_ already broke mine for me!” Mingyu said excitedly. “Where he goes, I go.”

 

Seungkwan turned to look at Hansol over his shoulder, found a gentle smile waiting there for him, as well as a slow nod. “If you want,” he offered, “All of you can stay here until we sort things out? I’d want Hannie-hyung and Jisoo-hyung to stay here in any case, the island will be good for his recouperation, and I can hire a remedial vocal coach for us.”

 

Chan cleared his throat. “ _Hyung_?” he asked Seungcheol. “What about my contract?”

 

Seungcheol tilted his head. “You have a comeback scheduled three months from now, right?” At Chan’s nod, he smiled. “Work hard for that, you’re closer to concert-ready than any of us. After promotions for that everyone else should be up to a basic level of fitness again. In the meantime, perhaps you and Soonyoung-ah can come up with choreography to Jihoon-ah’s new songs? It’ll really depend on the other two. If everything works out, and the press doesn’t crucify us, we’ll work on altering your contract with Legal.”

 

“We’ll have to go back to Seoul for at least the next six months anyway,” Jihoon concurred.

 

Chan nodded eagerly, quivering happily.

 

“Hyung,” Hansol asked. “Wonwoo- _hyung_ , will you two stay as well? You can write here too, right? And Seokmin-hyung?”

 

Wonwoo cast a look to Mingyu, then to Seungkwan, and smiled when he received a small, happy nod. “We’ll stay as well, if Mingyu-ah has no other plans.”

 

“And me too,” Seokmin said. “I think it might help things if I’m not in Seoul for the moment.”

 

Seungcheol-hyung grinned roguishly. “Can I at least invite _my_ fiancée?” he asked curiously. “I thought we could spend a week or so here. I’m not going to subject her to you lot, so I’ll book space in the Silla again, but she’d enjoy it here, I think. She’s never been to Jeju.”

 

“Oh my gosh!” Seungkwan cried out, eyes opening wide. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t know you were that far along, hyung!”

 

Jihoon tilted his head. “Nor did I.”

 

“I knew,” Jeonghan-hyung said with a shadow of his normal smile. “I even saw pictures yesterday.”

 

“What kind of Korean has never been to Jeju?” Chan asked curiously.

 

Seungcheol laughed as he hauled out his phone. “She’s not Korean,” he said as he started to pull up pictures. “She’s European. See, this is her. Her name is Olivia.”

 

Bedlam descended as they all stormed the phone, serious conversations forgotten for a moment.

 

* * *

 

Jeonghan sunk back into the pillows of the sofa with a creak of effort and a sigh. The deep, long recliner in his room was one of the only places he felt comfortable these days; he had so little flesh on him he tired out easily, and it appeared his body wasn’t going to spring back to life easily after three years of abusing it. Everyone had looked at the diet plan the therapist recommended, and were being religious about sticking to it – well, everyone but Chan, who had snuck him a chocolate with a straight face earlier.

 

Pulling it out, he considered the room. It was large and very well-appointed, with a closet full of clothes the guys had gotten for him. Seungkwan had definitely done well for himself, what with judicious investments and frugal living. He tried not to feel like a poor country cousin when he opened the chocolate and took a bite, slipping out the phone he had finally received back. Takeji-san had assured him that it was clean, that he had set it up to auto-respond to SMSes and the like. For now, flicking open e-mail, he tried to concentrate on the e-mail from the clinic.

 

His eyes worked after a moment of fierce concentration. The e-mail was long, the result of the intensive tests they had done on him whilst in the clinic. There were so many words and phrases he didn’t understand, but at the bottom the practitioner’s assistant had helpfully written a short, underline comment. “No infections or auto-immune diseases found.” He had to repeat it a couple of times in the rough husk of his voice before the meaning penetrated his mind and the phone fell from his fingers. The wave of relief that swept over him was so vast that he burst into the same furious tears as Joshuji earlier. Three years of having sex, sometimes unprotected. Three years of sharing needles and the like. Three _years_ , at the end of which all he had was loathing for himself, and he had somehow managed to duck the largest bomb of them all.

 

He didn’t see Seungcheol enter the room, too lost in old memories and his feelings to care. When his friend sat down next to him on the couch and wrapped arms around him, all he could do was cry and cry.

 

“Hannie?” Seungcheol said gently. “Is this about the news earlier?”

 

He shook his head, considered, and nodded it, motioning weakly to the phone on the floor as he wiped at his face with his shirt. There was silence as Seungcheol read it, a murmur of relieved surprise, and finally gentle hands patting his back.

 

“This is good news, right?” Seungcheol asked slowly. “And the doctors said you’ll make a full recovery if we take things slowly…”

 

Jeonghan shook his head. “I’m relieved?” he sniffed. “But angry. So angry that I believed him above you and Joshuji. So angry that I… that I…”

 

Seungcheol hauled a blanket around him, scooting closer. “What?” he asked gently.

 

_Nothing to lose, right? You’ve already lost everything, Yoon Jeonghan._

 

“I slept with him,” Jeonghan said bluntly, dashing his tears away. “Not once, many times, even after he left Pledis. I… he shared me to his friends, Seungcheol. I’m clean, but I’m not clean? Do you understand? This is going to get spread across the _entire South Korea_ if there’s a trial. No one’s going to care whether it was to protect others.”

 

He felt Seungcheol’s arms tighten a little, but his voice was the same smooth tone. “Who?” he finally asked. “Who were you protecting?”

 

“My baby,” Jeonghan said quietly, rubbing at his face to get it dry. “My Channie.”

 

At that Seungcheol’s arms stiffened again. “We’ll deal with it,” his leader promised after a minute's quiet. “We’ll deal with it, Hannie. We’ll make it go away, okay? Just give me some time to think of how. Just concentrate on getting well and strong again.” He paused. “You’re going to have to tell Jisoo.”

 

“I don’t know how.”

 

Seungcheol’s smile turned wry. “After all we’ve been through? Don’t be silly, ok? The man wanted to marry you.”

 

“The man still wants to marry you,” came a voice from the door, gentle but firm. “And if you think that asshole is going to get me to go away the second time, then you had best think again, Yoon Jeonghan. You're stuck with me now.”

 

Jeonghan blinked at the watery figure in the doorway, hiccuped and burst into tears again, stretching his arms out to his Joshuji.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. The reason why Seokmin no longer has a fiancee, and what he had been doing for the past few years. 
>   2. So finally the whole truth about Jeonghan's past and his involvement with the erstwhile VP comes out. 
>   3. A little angst, but not too much. 
>   4. Next up, China Line! 
>   5. The song for the chapter is DK's cover of '[She Didn't Love Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v3UW6oTw_ks&ab_channel=SEVENTEEN)'. 
> 



	16. Chapter 16

Chan listened to the waves crashing on the shore as he crept through the quiet house. It was before dawn, if only barely, and the place was dim and filled with his _hyungdeul_ snoring. Sometime in the night Seungcheol had slipped off the couch to rest on the floor, and he spent a moment covering him back up before he looked at the view outside. The curtains were slightly ajar, the doors open to let the sea-smell into the house. Creeping out, he hissed at the feeling of the cold stone on his feet and hurriedly slipped some slides on, taking the neat stairs down to the beach.

 

The pre-dawn air stung at his uncovered arms and bare legs, and he counted it as his punishment for sleeping in his favourite sleeveless shirt and shorts. It didn’t stop him from moseying down the stairs, though he stopped at the last switchback as the voice reached him.

 

Someone was singing on the beach, challenging the incoming tide with his voice; to be honest, Chan didn’t know which one was winning. Seungkwan’s voice had never had that boom of Seokmin’s but even now, after years of irregular vocal exercise it was still gigantic when it wanted to be. He was singing one of AKMU’s old songs, voice easily reaching Suhyun’s register before sinking down to her brother’s.

 

He stepped onto the sand, kicked off his slides and went to join him, hesitantly slipping an arm around his. It felt a little as if the sun came up when his _hyung_ turned to smile at him; the arm moved a little but only so that their hands could unite. He took a deep breath, eyes closing against the salty humidity, and started singing with. Together the two of them tackled the subject of the song; his tenor providing a base for his _hyung_ ’s vocal flights of fancy. It felt right, it felt _good_. Even when the song faded and he opened his eyes, he still felt the bubbling of excitement in his veins.

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” he said quietly. “This is almost like one of those sunrise festivals of yours, right?”

 

“Watch this.” Smiling a version of Hansol’s goofy smile, Seungkwan turned his face away towards the cliff, waited a moment for something and took a deep breath. The tone that emerged from his mouth was delicate at first, shaped like a fragile crystal bell; he lifted his hand to point at the cliff as he sang _Arirang_.

 

Chan felt his breath catch in his throat. It was just like one of the festivals – the sunlight finally peeked over the cliff and touched the beach as delicately as his _hyung_ ’s voice. It grew in strength as Seungkwan put more power behind his voice; between the sea and the impossibly high notes he heard, Chan couldn’t breathe for a few seconds, content to close his eyes and turn his face to the sun as it finally rose on this private pocket of Jeju-do. He was a good singer, one of the best he knew, but like this he realised anew why his _hyung_ had been one of the main vocalists of the band.

 

His feelings shuddered as he inhaled, thinking of how he had grown up in this family of thirteen talented brothers, and he thought of the other main vocalist, how Seokmin was happy and alive in front of the others, and depressed in his room with only Chan’s arm around his shoulder.

 

 _Never again,_ he promised himself. _This time I’ll do my duty and keep them together._

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” he managed to say as he opened his eyes, but Seungkwan wasn’t looking at him any longer. Instead, as he turned, he saw his _hyung_ smile at a figure walking down the beach steps. Tall, dressed in a bigger version of his sleeveless shirt and cargo shorts. He had been an unwilling participant through most of their fights, most of the angry and happy moments of their past relationship. To see Seungkwan smiling as if there was a bonfire in his chest felt right, felt _good_ , and once again he promised himself a relationship sometime.

 

“Nonie,” Seungkwan murmured, reaching out one hand for Hansol. “Good morning.”

 

Chan tried to escape, especially when Hansol kissed Seungkwan, but his flight was pulled short by a set of strong hands clamping down on his wrist.

 

“Not so fast,” Seungkwan laughed, pulling him back in. “Nonie, help me help our maknae to have a swim. It’s such a beautiful morning.”

 

“Gladly,” Hansol smirked as he reeled a struggling Chan closer.

 

“ _Hyung_ , noooo!” Chan shrieked as Hansol’s strong arms locked around his squirming body and he got hoisted onto his shoulder. “Have mercy, have mercyyyyyy!”

 

Seconds later he splashed into the still-cold ocean, limbs still flailing, and felt it shock happiness back into his heart. He managed to get to his feet only to hear a shriek as Seungkwan landed right next to him, and his boyfriend stood on the shore laughing it up.

 

“Revenge!” Seungkwan spluttered as he managed to straighten. “Channie!”

 

“Right at your side, _hyung_!” he shouted as he struggled to get enough footing to run down Hansol.

 

* * *

 

For all the times that he had been at the airport in the past two weeks, Seungkwan felt as if he should own a share of the place. He was starting to know the parking shockingly well, as well as the long wander to the arrivals area. It was late at night, which made things a little easier, and his company took the edge off his irritation as well. Hansol had escaped with him after dinner and stood behind him now, freed from the daytime glare of everyone else to stand with arms wrapped around him. He had his chin hooked over his shoulder; they weren’t talking, really, so much as he was listening to the faint music coming from his earpods.

 

Not lo-fi, thank goodness; as much as he appreciated all brands of music, he could only take so much of the chill music before he began looking for a little excitement.

 

The house was loud and lively now, with others beginning to express themselves in décor as well, like Wonwoo that had turned into the _cheesiest individual ever_ and bought Mingyu an ‘Awesome chef’ apron with two chili peppers and a pot of steaming stew on it, and had somehow been surprised when Mingyu practically jumped him for cuddles and kisses. Jihoon had laid claim to the sound system in the basement, checking up on it and muttering with a ‘Keep Out’ sign on the door leading down there. Chan had bought everyone matching Pilates mats for their workouts.

 

His house was getting to be a home, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He loved having them there, but he missed his empty, sunlit home as well, the silence in it except for the roar of the waves… He came to from his reverie from the feeling of a small kiss placed on the shell of his left ear.

 

“They’re almost here,” Hansol murmured softly into his ear. “Look, you can see the shadows of the first people against the frosted glass.”

 

They decorously separated though no one had complained, and Seungkwan leant forward over the railing, craning to see, as Hansol slipped a thumb through one of his belt loops to hold him back from the slight fall. There, secured, he scanned each person coming out, and felt tears gathering in his eyes as he saw one tall form and one smaller wander out with huge clamshell cases. Jun was still as spectacularly beautiful as ever, perhaps even more so with a man’s build filling out his shoulders and legs a little, and Minghao looked more delicate next to him than ever, slim and elfin and gorgeous.

 

“Jun- _hyung_!” he called out, risking the evil eye from the other passengers. “Minghao- _hyung_!”

 

They lifted their eyes, saw him and waved; abruptly eager, he pulled Hansol to the end of the walkway and to the side, waiting the bare amount of time before he went in for hugs. Minghao looked good and smelled even better, surrounded by some cologne he didn’t know even now, and he felt no shame whatsoever in pressing his face into the crook of the expensively clad neck and inhaling deeply. “ _Hyung_ …” he whispered softly. “ _Hyung_ , I’m so glad you’re here.”

 

“Seungkwan-ah,” Minghao replied gently in his accented Korean, giving him a single pat on the back of his head. “I’m glad to see you too, but let’s get out of the public eye first?”

 

Seungkwan breathed in, nodded and went to collect a quick hug from Jun before he laid claim to one of the suitcases and Hansol led them from the airport. There was a much longer hugging session at the car, with Jun getting shotgun because of his long legs. Hansol carefully exited the parking lot and headed back home a bit under the recommended speed – Seungkwan didn’t think he’d ever change that after the tragedy in his past. He turned to Minghao and blinked when he saw him asleep, slowly tilting to rest on his shoulder.

 

“He’s been running himself ragged trying to get cover for the next few weeks,” Jun said from the front seat, looking back at them. “It does me good to see you two together again. You should never have split up.”

 

Seungkwan gave him a small smile. “For better or for worse, _hyung_. He steals blankets.”

 

“He sings in the shower,” Hansol shot back.

 

Jun’s smile broadened and he shook his head.

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Seungkwan asked softly, shoulder sloping to make a better pillow for Minghao. “Did you two ever…?”

 

Again that gaze, this time a bit stronger. “We are what we are,” Jun said simply. “But that is our choice, and I don’t want to put a label on what it is.”

 

“He snores too,” Minghao mumbled against his shoulder, momentarily awake as he tried to get comfortable. “I sleep on the couch a lot.”

 

Seungkwan had to laugh at the half-fond, half-horrified look on Jun’s face, and turned to pull his _hyung_ against his chest instead, closing his eyes too.

 

The house was brightly lit when they got there, and the others spilled outside to help them carry everything in; when Minghao nearly tripped from tiredness and Jun wrapped his arm around him, Seungcheol cut the greetings short and pointed them to bed. “We’ll chat tomorrow,” he ruled, and they all listened, trooping afterwards like obedient boys.

 

“Nonie,” Seungkwan muttered as he got into bed, hearing the house slowly settle. Relaxing on his back, he tilted his head to watch Hansol change, admiring the long lines of his build in the soft light.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Would you have come looking for me one day?” Seungkwan asked. “If we hadn’t met up here on Jeju?”

 

Hansol turned to toss his clothes into the nearby laundry bin, wandering naked to bed. “People think I’m calm and patient,” he finally said. “Chill, a total pacifist. But Kwan, I can assure you that after visiting Eunji’s grave this year I would have come looking for you. Three years is pushing even my patience, and I always knew I’d have to approach you first. You get stuck in your grudges. But as it was, destiny did us a favour and perhaps it was for the best this way. Move over.”

 

Seungkwan pouted unhappily, scooting down into bed.

 

He didn’t have the sanctity of his own space for very long; Hansol reached out to haul him closer. “Are you unhappy?” his rapper asked simply.

 

“I’m angry that I wasted so much time,” Seungkwan finally muttered, mouth losing its tense curve. “It’s like Jun- _hyung_ and Minghao- _hyung_ … I still think they’re together, you know? They stuck to each other through all their problems. I just… I wish I hadn’t been so proud. And now Cheol- _hyung_ has to deal with that terrible man. I… what?”

 

He pulled back as he saw the corner of Hansol’s mouth tilt up. “What?” he demanded again.

 

“Whatever problems he might face legally, and I’m sure he will, don’t you think there’s another person that’s angry at him as well? A person that happens to love Vocal Unit and Seventeen’s angel in particular?”

 

The words sunk in until Seungkwan realised their truth. “Oh my gosh,” he whispered. “Oh my gosh, Takeji-san? Did he tell you anything?”

 

Hansol shook his head. “No, it’s just a suspicion. Come on, jagi, let’s go to sleep. No use in getting tired now.”

 

Fascinated, Seungkwan curled up as Hansol shifted on his other side, one arm slipping over Hansol’s waist to meet his hand.

 

* * *

 

The group sat united in the long living room, feet stuck towards the pool of sunlight, as they sat watching Seungcheol pull out a chair for Jeonghan, handing over a protein shake for a snack. Minghao had been struck silent when he saw what Jeonghan had done to himself; Jun had been nearly inconsolable, and promised to help him exercise, help him fatten up a little, to kidnap him to China.

 

Seungkwan, feeling a slight squeeze on his hand from Wonwoo of all people, pulled in a deep breath and spoke. “I’ve already apologised to the rest, but I’d like to apologise to you, Jun- _hyung_ , and to you, Minghao- _hyung_ , again. I spent a lot of time during my time in the Army thinking and getting knotted up in my own thoughts, and I had always liked to MC and… and I was angry at Hansol. I was, um, very angry, and I reacted very, very badly.” Another deep breath. “It was so selfish of me to do that just as we had time to get back together and perform again.”

 

“We all had issues around that time, Seungkwan-ah,” Jisoo said gently. “We had forgotten how to talk things out along the line, and all of us reacted badly, not just you.”

 

“For us there was pressure from China too,” Minghao- _hyung_ added. “We were becoming very known there, and our parents wanted us back there. The atmosphere in the band was toxic, and we had trouble between ourselves too, so we thought we’d seek out a new solution, a new start.” He broke off to look at Jun.

 

“We should not have,” Jun said softly, but gravely. “I had long ago made a promise never to desert my partners, and that is what I did, I deserted my brothers. I could have stayed and helped to work things out too.”

 

“I was an angel,” Chan said lightly to break the atmosphere. “I still am.”

 

The older guys groaned; Seokmin caught him in a noogie, rubbing his hair into spikes for him.

 

“Be that as it may,” Seungcheol said, “We had been discussing coming back together for a concert and seeing how things go. We didn’t want to plan anything without all of us being ready, and we were worried most about you two, whether you have any contracts that we need to worry about, or any business issues or the like.”

 

Minghao shook his head as Jeonghan’s phone pinged. “No business issues, we have good managers, but I’m on an idol program for at least another few months, and Jun’s shooting the last of his TV drama… next week, I think? We don’t have much time to be here. After that… well, we can see? And there is the issue you SMSed us about, the man that should be prosecuted.”

 

“I think…” came Jisoo’s voice, “I think that might be a good idea to discuss how we’re going to handle it not only as a group but as a company. Cheollie, have you spoken to the president about this?”

 

Seungcheol nodded. “The president is understandably aghast that signs were not picked up before. I checked in with the retained lawyers this morning, and there’s a good chance that we might have a case against him. It’s all about evidence. The more we get, the easier it’ll be.”

 

Jeonghan looked up from the message on his phone. “I don’t think that’ll be an issue,” he said, sweetly savage, and held up his rickety phone. “It seems that some totally unscrupulous person got a hold of old cell records and messages, and sent it to his wife. It’s splashed all over the newspapers in Seoul. She’s already filing for divorce. The newspapers got hold of some of the texts as well, and apparently the public is up in arms.”

 

Seungcheol pinched his eyes shut. “Well, there goes any chance of handling it quietly,” he muttered.

 

Seungkwan punched the air. “Well done, Takeji-san!” he crowed.

 

“There’s more,” Jeonghan said, and lowered the phone to rest on his lap. “His wife has vowed to find as many of his victims over the years as she can to recompense them. Perhaps you could quietly pass some of the evidence along, Cheollie? She needs to know. I need to… I need to apologise.”

 

“She’ll understand why,” Seungcheol soothed. “You were just protect…” He broke off, mouth snapping shut as Jisoo frantically shook his head.

 

Seungkwan could practically feel Hansol’s frown. Silence descended, thick and uncomfortable.

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Soonyoung demanded. “Who were you protecting? Was it one of us?”

 

The silence stretched, broken only by Jeonghan’s mortified look in their maknae’s direction, then out towards the beautiful view.

 

The tension twanged. Seungkwan transferred his gaze to Chan, saw as the implication of the look sunk into his consciousness, and watched him as he slowly stood to walk out of the room. The front door slammed behind him. Seeing the _hyungdeul_ frozen, feeling his second chance shattering, Seungkwan darted to his feet and ran afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. And so everyone is back together, if only for a short time, and planning ensues. 
>   2. The song Seungkwan sings, Arirang, is sort of the unofficial national anthem of South Korea. Sohyang sang a really beautiful version [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zFyndK9VOCk&ab_channel=KBSWorldTV). 
>   3. The song for the chapter is BTS' [Spring Day](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xEeFrLSkMm8&ab_channel=ibighit)'. 
> 



	17. Chapter 17

Seungkwan ran out of the house, wincing as his socked feet struck the gravel. For a moment it took him back to the moment that had started all this -- three days of really falling in love with Choi Hansol, and the pain in his feet after a 'therapeutic' walk on that pebbled path. Here it felt worse. Little bits of gravel clung to his socks as he ran, but he bit his lip and went for it, desperate to track their maknae down.

 

Chan could move at a surprising pace; it was almost at the gate that he caught up to him, and only because he had sunk down on his haunches next to a poll of beach-grass.

 

He approached cautiously; Chan was one of the gentlest people he knew, aside from Jisoo- _hyung_ , but no one could be calm after something like that, and the ferocious way he yanked on the stringy, tough stalks cautioned him to tread gently. Despite that, his shoulders were rounded forward, curling in on himself with a lack of confidence he hadn't seen  in almost ten years.

 

"Chan-ah?" he questioned softly.

 

Chan didn't lift his head, but stared sideways. "Tell me he didn't do that," he said bitterly.

 

Seungkwan sank down next to him. "I can't do that. Jeonghan- _hyung_ would have walked through fire for all of us. It's stupid, but we were younger, and you really were our baby, no matter how much we used to tease you about it. Our maknae, right?"

 

He watched Chan's expression contort, watched his mouth open to say something angry, and watched him throttle it back, all in the space of five seconds. " _Hyung_ ," he got out in a strangled voice. "If no one calls me their baby for the rest of my life, I'd be very happy about it. There's a huge difference between being someone's baby and sleeping with some damn pervert. I could have defended myself. I could have..."

 

Seungkwan tilted his head. "I'm not saying you couldn't," he muttered. "And what Jeonghan- _hyung_ did was pretty stupid. It wasn't just so that someone wouldn't sleep with you. Back then, even with the stigma of being a non-straight individual lessening, the pressure was still intense. Do you remember that fan tempest because of the book you read... I can't remember the name, but it had a yellow cover? And that wasn't even you being in a relationship, that was just you reading about relationships."

 

Chan's shoulders slumped. "I still don't know how Minghao- _hyung_ got away with it all the time."

 

"No idea," Seungkwan sighed. "But it helps that he's prettier than the two of us put together." He considered for a moment. "Channie... I've always wondered. What  _are_ your tastes in that direction?"

 

"Are you afraid I'm going to steal Hansol- _hyung_ away, _hyung_?" Chan teased.

 

Seungkwan laughed. "Gods, no, if there's one thing the past few weeks taught me it's how much he loves me."

 

Chan shuffled to lean against his back, wiggling until their spines aligned. "Did you know I used to hate singing love songs because I never wanted to understand them? I had a crush on Jun- _hyung_ for a while..."

 

"Who didn't?" Seungkwan asked, entirely unironic. "My sisters had a crush on him. I did too, for roughly a week. Then I came to my senses and realised I liked someone else a great deal more. I still have a great big man-crush on his voice. I don't know how it can be so pure in his falsetto range."

 

Chan facepalmed audibly. " _Hyung_ ," he muttered, voice distorted by his hands. "You're such a vocal snob."

 

"I am," Seungkwan admitted airily. "And you're ducking the question, which means you're still confused."

 

"I've never fallen in love like you mean," Chan said bluntly. "Men, women, whatever shade of the rainbow. Or perhaps it'd be better to say that I fell in love once before, and I've still not fallen out of it. I've had sex before, but it's... it's formulaic, _hyung_. Uninteresting. I'm not confused. Just ashamed for being so happy that he's no longer engaged."

 

"It's Seokkie?" Seungkwan got out. "You fell in love with Seokkie? But you never said anything? How long now?"

 

Chan’s body curled away from him as he sighed. “I can’t tell you, it’s been too long. I think about a year or so before we debuted. It was too risky to say something in those years, and then he started having girlfriends, and he was so happy I couldn’t say anything. And now I feel so angry because Jeonghan- _hyung_ could have said something as well – we might have all been together still if I just spoke up as I wanted to as well. I’m tired of being everyone’s baby, _hyung_ , and I’m tired of being silent. Does that even make sense?”

 

Seungkwan swallowed. Thinking of the acute pain of loving Hansol from afar, seeing him hook up with other people year after year, suffering that way for over a decade… Lee Chan might be one of the strongest and purest individuals he knew. “No,” he said hoarsely. “No, it makes perfect sense. Everyone in this group would have been better-served for being a little more talkative and a little less inclined to drama, myself especially. Are you going to tell him?”

 

An airy sigh. “I don’t know, _hyung_. It’s been so long. But I need to go and apologise to Jeonghan- _hyung_ first. I didn’t mean to hurt him. Thank you for coming after me.” Chan stood and dusted his butt off, reaching to pull Seungkwan up as well. “ _Hyung_ , what’s it like to have sex with someone you actually love?”

 

Seungkwan stood and smiled devilishly. “Do you remember you asked me what the bruise on my arm was the other day?”

 

Chan frowned, doubtful. “Yes? You said you caught it on the sink’s corner?”

 

“I lied,” Seungkwan said happily. “I bit my arm to remain silent when I came, because it was good enough that I wanted to scream.”

 

“Oh my gosh,” Chan said, walking faster. “You nasty. No, don’t touch me with those sinning hands!”

 

Seungkwan chased their maknae all the way to the door again, laughing like a devil.

 

* * *

 

The others were still talking, but the first think Chan did was make for Jeonghan’s side, and he did something he hadn’t done since the first time he saw him so thin and haggard. He wriggled in beside him on the couch, shifting Jun aside with one hip, and wrapped his arms around his waist for a light squeeze. “I love you, _hyung_ ,” he said, forthright. “Thank you for protecting me like that, but I wish you never had to, and you never will have to again. From now on it’s my turn to protect you, okay?”

 

No one clamoured to add their five cents, but expressions eased around the board as Jeonghan smiled and nodded. They split up soon afterwards, determined to enjoy their last day together. Seungkwan said nothing when he saw Chan pull Seokmin into their bedroom, merely went to fetch the keys to the hired car for Soonyoung, who wanted to take a trip to town for provisions. They piled in enough people to help carry as Jisoo and Jeonghan went to stretch, and with everyone gone he wandered out himself, choosing to head to the one cliff rather than the beach.

 

Seated there, basking in the heat of the sun, he nearly fell asleep and was only jostled awake when Hansol sat down next to him with a still-icy cappuchino. Murmuring his thanks, he sipped slowly at it as he stared out over the ocean.

 

"I didn't think you could do it," Hansol said after a while. "Get everyone back together. I believed that you could, but I didn't think it would happen. Does that make sense?"

 

Seungkwan slanted his gaze towards him behind his sunglasses. "Not really," he muttered humorously. "As always your thoughts are as deep as the ocean, Hansolie." He wiggled the cappuchino towards him, and smiled when he took it for a sip. "I think everyone wanted it, and I believed I could because you told me I could. So really, this is all thanks to you."

 

Hansol sipped slowly at the ice-cold cappuchino. "I talk to my mother about doing this house as a renovation project. She yelled at me for two hours straight for not telling her we were back together."

 

It made Seungkwan smile smugly. "Payback for my mother loving you more than me," he pointed out cheekily.

 

Hansol snorted and handed the coffee back. "Very funny. There isn't a person in the world that loves..."

 

"No," Seungkwan said, interrupting him. "I can guess what you're going to say but you're wrong. I love Chwe Hansol more than I love Boo Seungkwan. No matter what you think. So don't say it."

 

Hansol's only response was a long, slow smile and a squeeze of his knee. "If we're  going to be here for a few months still, they won't be able to start work, but it gave me an idea. There's that apartment building that I own in Gangnam... there are four apartments open in it at the moment. How about when we go back to Seoul, we go and see which one we like the most? There's just one thing..."

 

Seungkwan's brows creased a little. "We can... does it need to be redone first? I... what are you doing?"

 

He watched as Hansol turned to face him, legs moving until he knelt at Seungkwan's side. His eyes, growing large, focused on a little pouch and the gleaming circle of metal that Hansol took from it, the flecks of intense blue and sand-yellow and a sparkle like the sun.

 

His heart thumped once, painfully, as Hansol smiled his beautiful smile at him.

 

"Boo Seungkwan," Hansol asked softly, accompanied by the rushing of waves and the distant cry of seagulls. "Marry me, please?"

 

Seungkwan couldn't speak, the knot in his throat was too large for that, but he reached out with shaking hands to wrap his arms around Hansol, almost diving him flat with the force he used. He mashed their lips together, deepened the kiss ardently, until Hansol rolled over to press him into the warmed cliff stone. Somewhere in the deep kisses, the ring slipped onto his finger, feeling cool and slightly too loose and wonderful as he carded his fingers through Hansol's messy hair.

 

"I'd still like an answer," Hansol teased him long minutes later. "And the guys back home are waiting too, Soonyoung- _hyung_ insisted on arranging a party..."

 

Feeling happy and mirthful and entirely in love, Seungkwan cast him a glance, then stood to wave to the tiny figures on the house's deck, cupping his hands next to his mouth. "I said yes!" he yelled back as loudly as he physically could, uncaring if everyone from here to Hallasan heard him. "Start the party, _hyungdeul_!"

 

It was the happiest moment of his life, hearing Hansol's soft laughter mixed with Seokmin's booming cheer and what looked suspiciously like Seungcheol passing Jihoon some money.

 

Hansol's arms slipped around his waist from behind. "I'll get you a proper ring as soon as we get close to a decent shop," he promised, kissing the shell of Seungkwan's ear delicately. "I saw that one at a beach vendor the other day and thought you might like it anyway. I know it's not really Korean tradition..."

 

Seungkwan looked down at the ring on his finger. It was a simple silver ring, with bits of inlaid, intensely blue shell and tiny sparkles of what looked like pyrite and miniscule diamonds. "It's lovely," he got out thickly. "You don't need to get me anything else. You already got me Jeju in a ring."

 

Hansol, perhaps sensing happy tears, turned him around hugged the stuffing out of him. "Come on," he murmured as he held him. "We need to go back before they steal all the beer, and Seungcheol- _hyung_ 's girlfriend is coming tonight anyway. Cheerful Boo, okay? How are you going to phone your mom if you're crying?"

 

“I hate you,” Seungkwan got out thickly against his shoulder. “You know I look like a troll when I cry and you’re always making me cry.”

 

“I happen to love this troll,” Hansol said as he pulled back to wipe his tears off. “Even if he hates me. Come on, let’s get back to the others?”

 

Seungkwan exhaled a shuddering breath and nodded, happily wandering back.

 

* * *

 

Seungcheol's girlfriend was the furthest thing from what Seungkwan would have thought he'd go for. Lovely, yes, a handful of years younger, and an absolute firecracker. The moment they arrived from the airport she introduced herself very seriously as Choi Olivia in the best Korean he had ever heard from a foreigner, and laughed at them all when they stilled from shock.

 

"I love doing that," she told them happily as Seungcheol smiled indulgently over her shoulder, one thumb moving back-and-forth over the nape of her neck. "It keeps the number one Carat-killer in his place."

 

Jisoo, grinning faintly, still managed to keep a straight face, but Jeonghan burst out laughing and walked forward to greet her. "Not fair," their angel said with a slight pout. "I'm the number one Carat-killer."

 

"Actually, it's me," Mingyu said oh, so seriously; seconds later, he winced away from the poke Jun gave him as he stepped past, cheeks pink.

 

"I'm the number one," Jun insisted just as seriously. "Keep me in check too, please?"

 

Seungkwan caught Minghao's fond eye-roll, stifling laughter as Seungcheol bristled.

 

"Oh, I know you!" Olivia said with a happy hand-clap. "You're that cute boy that blushed so much because he couldn't speak to girls in that Chinese music program you guys did, right?"

 

"Damn," Jihoon drawled as Jun flushed bright pink right on cue. "Savage."

 

Despite all the blushing, she fit right in as Mingyu and Wonwoo abducted her to go and sit down. Their rapid-fire French filled the area around the barbeque; the rest of the guys followed soon after, and Seungkwan smiled as he looked at the utterly smitten look on his eldest _hyung_ 's face. Going to start the rice cooker - Jihoon's love for it had not abated in the last ten years - he worked silently until Minghao showed up next to him, quietly starting to chop scallions for the dipping sauce.

 

Seungkwan looked at him sideways. Despite his height, he still seemed so delicate in most aspects, from the absolute confidence he moved with to the small sideways smile he gave him.

 

Minghao carefully scraped the pile of scallions aside and started to peel ginger. "Congratulations," he said softly. "On your engagement. I hope you will be as happy together as Jun and I."

 

That gave Seungkwan pause. He hadn't asked yesterday, and didn't want to now. " _Hyung_ ," he said bluntly. " _Hyung_ , tell me you're really happy too?"

 

Minghao stopped chopping and turned to look out at the patio and all the laughing people there. Bracing his hip on the counter, he frowned thoughtfully. "I'm happy seeing that," he said, jerking his chin as Mingyu wrapped his arms around Wonwoo to carry him around like a parcel. "But I'm guessing that's not what you're asking."

 

Seungkwan chewed on his lower lip as he finished washing the next batch of rice, leaving it to one side in a bowl. "Not really."

 

His _hyung_ reached over, ginger hands and all, to pick up his hand to admire the ring. "Seungkwanie," he said firmly. "Just because we choose not to label what we have does not mean I'm not happy. I _am_ happy, I promise you. We both are."

 

Seungkwan felt the desire to push further, but saw Jun looking up at them instead, and the intensely fond look that passed between him and Minghao made him feel better about things. Whatever else happened, Wen Junhui and Xu Minghao would stand together against it.

 

“It’s said that souls move closer to each other over many lifetimes. Again and again, until they rub each other smooth and familiar; Jun and I have been moving together for many lifetimes, and we will get closer still for many more. I _know_ that. I’m not hasty in this life.”

 

Seungkwan bit his lip and nodded, sneaking in a quick hug from sheer happiness. Later that night, with half of the party in the pool and the other half in a good food haze, Mingyu came to slump down next to Seungkwan on his lounger, long limbs heavy. "I has a secret," he mumbled, clearly way drunker than Seungkwan. "I want to marry you."

 

Seungkwan blinked, half-horrified, and watched his puppy _hyung_ blink too, long and slow and clearly three sheets to the wind.

 

"Immmmmnnnn," Mingyu slurred out. "Get married with you, not to you. Let's have a double wed. Wedding. Thing." Conspiratorially, he held up one hand and tried to wiggle his fingers.

 

Staring at the empty fingers, Seungkwan didn't know what to say. Seconds later, as Mingyu fell asleep snuggled into his side, he didn't have to. Instead, as Wonwoo ambled over to collect him he stared at his _hyung_ with wide eyes. " _Hyung_... marriage?"

 

"I didn't want to ask him on your day," Wonwoo said as he sat down on the end of the lounger, one hand patting Mingyu's hip. "Hansol-ah was so happy earlier, arranging everything. But I was going to ask him soon? If… if it has your approval."

 

" _Hyung_ ," Seungkwan said happily. "Yes, of _course._ Wait until I tell him how whipped you are for him."

 

"As whipped as you are for Hansol-ah?" Wonwoo joked with relief, looking towards the pool. There was a free-for-all going on, with Jihoon on Soonyoung's shoulders and Chan on Hansol's, trying to wrestle for possession of a ball. Olivia sounded absolutely hilarious as she tried to referee in a thick, twangy Busan accent, with Seungcheol acting as her Daegu opponent.

 

Seungkwan melted at the sight of Wonwoo holding one arm out for Mingyu as he looked back. "Precisely," he said, and slowly pushed Mingyu over to him. "Take the lounger, _hyung_ , if you want." He wasn't too steady, so he walked slowly to where he could dive safely into the water and came up near Jeonghan and Jisoo. It only cost a moment's begging for Jeonghan to join him, and he easily lifted his rake-thin frame as Jisoo waved them off. "War!" he screamed as they charged into the fray. "This is war! _Hyung_ , use your elbows!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. Apologies for being away so long, I had some stuff I had to work through. 
>   2. The song for this chapter is Seventeen's '[Love Letter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UwZv5jjPaBE&t=4s&ab_channel=SEVENTEEN)'
> 



	18. Chapter 18

Dawn was still only a thought in the sky’s mind when Seungkwan got up, body restless and preconditioned by the Performance group’s tough practices these past few days. Drawing the thin sheet up over Hansol’s legs and letting him sleep in, he wandered through the sleep-heavy house out towards the deck. Stepping out, he hissed at the feeling of the cool, damp deck and heard soft laughter tickle through the air. There, almost invisible, Olivia sat on one of the pool loungers with a huge cup of coffee in her hands, body nearly swallowed in what looked like one of Seungcheol’s old sweatsuits.

 

“Join me?” she invited quietly, and scooted aside to make space for him.

 

Yawning, trying to comb his bedhead down, he meandered over to flop on the end of the lounger, tucking his feet in underneath himself. “How are you not freezing, Olivia-ssi?” he asked curiously. “The morning air is so thin. I hope you slept well?”

 

She beamed at him over the rim of her cup. “I didn't, but I’m still on Cardiff time. I’ll crash later on the plane back to Seoul.”

 

Seungkwan frowned. “Cardiff?” he said slowly. “I’m not sure where that is.”

 

“I’m not surprised,” she said, mouth furling with amusement. “A lot of people think the United Kingdom starts and ends with London. Cardiff’s the capital of Wales.” With a nose-crinkle, she lowered the cup and said something to him. It was so foreign that it sounded aspirated and musical, but with a unique kind of beauty that tickled at his memory.

 

 _Why does it sound so familiar?_ Seungkwan’s eyebrows arched. “That’s lovely,” he said softly. “What is it?”

 

“Cymraeg,” she replied after another sip. “I grew up in a very remote area of Wales, where it was still the daily language, and I was seven before I heard my first words of English. Somehow next to that, Korean wasn’t so difficult, but I’m still having trouble writing it.”

 

Encouraged, Seungkwan reached out to pull another lounger close, scooting up on it to get out of the thin pre-dawn breeze. “How did you get to come here? And how did you get to meet Cheol-hyung?”

 

She turned to face him. “I’m an account executive for a large manufacturing firm. We handle a lot of home crafters, resell their products and so on, but I had passed the bar as well as my masters in business management, so they sent me over here to make sense of the South Korean justice system, since we were thinking of expanding here… anyway, a friend of mine invited me to go to a benefit dinner with him. There I was, thinking it would be the same as evening dress back home, and instead everyone’s there in suits, even the women, and I’m dressed like Mata Hari in red.”

 

 Seungkwan’s eyes rounded, giggles threatening to escape. “You didn’t.”

 

“Oh I did,” she muttered. “I looked like one of those frogs that advertise their poison. Which… not _wrong_ , but certainly not the message I had wanted to convey. I had slunk to the bar and was hiding, polishing off vodka shots, and here this guy comes out of nowhere and compliments my dress.” She grinned up at him. “I don’t particularly like red anyway, and I thought he was making a crack about it, so I rolled my eyes at him and told him ‘Thanks, I hate it’, and to my surprise he laughed and offered me his jacket. Thirty minutes later we were at a neighbourhood joint eating hot wings and drinking beer.”

 

Suffused with laughter, Seungkwan pinched his eyes shut and guffawed with laughter, earning a poke in his side.

 

“Don’t laugh!” Olivia whined. “My friend still hasn’t forgiven me and I donated that gown as soon as I could, but Cheol hasn’t let me live it down. He proposed in the same joint, you know? We were having a drinking competition noraebang later the night, and here the owner comes out with this huge, sizzling onion volcano and a ring embedded in some cheese dip.”

 

“Sounds like… oh my god… sounds like he knew the way to your heart! Did you know he was famous?” Seungkwan gasped with helpless mirth. “Gods, I’m going to tease him so much about this… the cheesiest proposal ever, for more reasons than just one.”

 

Olivia groaned. “Very funny. I didn’t know he had been in an idol band, not until he explained why some women were glaring at me so much – I thought he had been a serial dater, and each breakup had been bad.”

 

Seungkwan snorted. “He had always joked about marrying all the Carats. How’d you get past that?”

 

She shrugged. “I started introducing myself as Choi Olivia. That shut them up fast enough. Anyway, he asked me to marry him a few weeks ago, and I flew back home to arrange my affairs there and tell my parents, and then all of this happened? I’m still not up on everyone’s stories, though Cheol told me a little about all of you. More about Jeonghan-ssi.”

 

“Oh,” Seungkwan muttered softly. “Did it… does it bother you? It’s a lot to take, homosexuals and drug misuse and that kind of scandal.”

 

“I don’t think she cares about that,” a voice came from behind them, and they turned to see Seungcheol leaning against the doorframe leading in to the house. “Homosexuality doesn’t bother her at all. She’s the one that got the Golden Couple to admit they wanted to be together.”

 

“Cheol!” Olivia said, half-pouting, half-loving. “They were pining. I _had_ to.”

 

As Seungkwan stared at the smile his hyung shared with his fiancée, he thought he understood a little more. Last night Seungcheol-hyung had quietly admitted that he was sure he was the lucky one in the relationship. Now, seeing the way the woman in front of him looked at his hyung, he understood that it didn’t matter what Choi Seungcheol thought, it was clear that Olivia Carter worshipped the ground he walked on, especially with the way she bounced up as he stretched his hand out to her.

 

“Come on, jagi,” his hyung murmured, smiling over her shoulder at him. “Let’s go and cuddle a little more. Sorry, Seungkwanie, we’ll chat again later?”

 

“Sure,” he murmured, and thanked his fates for the second chance again. “If the others ask on the way in, I’m going to take a swim down on the beach.”

 

* * *

 

Olivia surprised Wonwoo by sticking close to him as they got out at the airport later that morning; the reason soon became clear as Seungcheol took Mingyu and the others down the line of shops, and she looked up at him, gaze straight.

 

“Yes?” Wonwoo asked curiously, eyebrows arching. “Was there something you wanted to discuss in private, Olivia-ssi?”

 

In response, she wiggled at the rings on her hands, drawing them off and offering them to him in the palm of her hand. “I know you didn’t get your chance yesterday, and it’s too early now, but Seungcheol and I talked. I know this is presuming a lot, but do you perhaps want to have one of these?”

 

For a moment Wonwoo didn’t have the foggiest what she was talking about. Beyond her engagement ring (that had the most massive stone he had ever seen), there were two golden rings there, one a flowered pattern of diamonds in a gold border, and the other a thinner one, with a mere trace of diamonds in what looked like black knot-work in a band of gold. Realisation came slowly, and his gaze flashed to hers. “I can’t…” he said softly. “This is too generous, Olivia-ssi.”

 

“Nothing is too generous for family,” she said simply.

 

He swallowed, moved by her generosity. For an outsider to their band to say that, to see them as family, wasn’t something he had expected. “I’ll ransom it back for you later,” he promised, and reached for the knot-work ring. At her smile, he got his phone out and dialled. Not Seungkwan, because Mingyu could read his mind, but Hansol. “Hansol-ah… can you herd them to one of the private lounges?”

 

“Ahhh,” Hansol answered. “There’s an Asiana lounge here, I’ll go ask if I can hire it for a bit. It's still early so it shouldn't a problem.”

 

“Thank you,” he said to Olivia as he ended the call, and turned to go and look for his future. "I'll make it up to you later on."

 

It didn’t take long to get to the lounge, and the concierge at the front desk helpfully pointed him to the private room. Pushing past the crowd at the bar, he singled Mingyu out and pulled him over into one corner next to the large picture window. He loved his band mates, but there was no way he was doing this right in front of an audience. “Mingyu-ya…” he muttered, swallowing. “Gyu-ya. Ah, I have no idea how to ask this…”

 

Mingyu, the rat bastard, merely gave him a stunning smile and sat back, raking his hand through his fringe and saying nothing.

 

Wonwoo bit back an irritated growl and shot a look to the others. Of the lot of them, only Jihoon was looking over to them, and made wriggly ‘get-on-with-it’ eyebrow motions. Biting the inside of his cheek, relishing the tiny sting of pain, he dug into his pocket and reached out for one of Mingyu’s large hands. “I’ve known you for almost twenty years now,” he got out. “And overall they’ve been the most rewarding of my life. It’s not guesswork to say that I’d like to stay with you for the next twenty as well, if you’ll let me?”

 

Mingyu’s expression lost its amusement, turned serious as he slowly sat straight. “Hyung…”

 

“Not hyung,” Wonwoo interrupted. “Wonwoo. Please.” Grimacing at the mess he was making of things, he took a deep breath and held out the ring on the palm of his hand. “I didn’t want to ask you on Seungkwan’s day,” he said softly. “I wanted to ask you on your day. You deserve a day to yourself, Kim Mingyu. You deserve everything. Will you consent to becoming my husband?”

 

It was like the hurricane Soonyoung liked to sing about. Mingyu managed to leap from his seat over the tiny table onto him, and if it wasn’t for the cramp-hold Wonwoo had on the ring, it would have gone flying. Instead, holding it, he wrapped his arms around Mingyu’s waist and tried to kiss him back, hair combed awry by his fiance’s fingers. He felt like a puppy was wriggling on his lap, and held on for dear life, ignoring the cheering and laughter from the bar. Finally, long moments later, he pulled back and arched his eyebrows. “Yes?”

 

“Yes,” Mingyu said, tears in his eyes and a smile tilting swollen lips. “Yes, of course I’ll be your husband.”

 

Feeling a curious kind of heat in his heart, Wonwoo managed to smile as well and slipped the ring onto Mingyu’s pinky. “I’ll go and buy you one of your own, I promise,” he said. “Just as soon as we can get to a shop. For now, if I don’t let you go, Hurricane Hoshi’s going to splash all over us.”

 

Mingyu’s laughter rang out as he scrambled off Wonwoo’s lap and went to show off the ring. Later, when Wonwoo bribed the ring back from him with a ludicrously huge red plastic ring he got from a gachapon, promising a formal one, he laughed equally loudly. Throughout it, he wouldn’t let go of Wonwoo, walking with an arm around his shoulders or a hand in the small of his back. Wonwoo barely noticed, feeling as if the top of his mind had been blown off.

 

 _Kim Mingyu said yes. He said yes. To_ me _._

* * *

 

Coming home was bittersweet for Seungkwan. After so many days of having the whole group around, he fancied he could hear everyone’s voices in the long, sunlit passages of the house. Whenever he closed his eyes, Jihoon was doing something arcane in the sound booth he had constructed downstairs, or Seungcheol and Soonyoung were fooling around in the pool, clowning for everyone else’s benefit. There was Channie on the edge of the patio, helping him get his body in shape for a concert, or Minghao trying to read whilst Jun vied for his notice.

 

It was almost… it was almost _lonely,_ despite half the group still being there. He wandered through the rooms that stood empty now, finding a forgotten bottle of lotion that smelled like Olivia’s; he was halfway through changing the bed in one of the rooms when Seokmin joined him silently and took over a corner of the comforter to help. Watching him quietly, Seungkwan saw the need to speak behind the smile, and waited quietly until his band-brother fussed enough with the clean sheets to get his thoughts in order.

 

“He came to speak to me,” Seokmin said quietly as he covered a pillow afresh. “Channie. He told me that he had had a crush on me for years now, and that he hadn’t wanted to mention it because I had been in relationships all this time.”

 

Seungkwan made a vague, encouraging noise, kicking the dirty linen into a pile as he worked.

 

Seokmin lifted his eyes to glance at him, then looked down at the bed again, taking his time to smooth out the corners and the clean linen. “I didn’t know what to say. I love Channie very much, but I had never thought to extend that to a romantic love. I’m pretty straight, not to mention that I’ve just gotten out of another relationship and it wasn’t the best one. I didn’t know what to say; Kwannie, what should I have said?”

 

“That’s not really something I can tell you, hyung,” Seungkwan murmured. “When it comes to matters of the heart I might not really be the best to talk to. Hansol’s the one with advice on matters of the heart. I’ve been stupid for a long time myself.”

 

Seokmin bit his lip. “I look at him,” he whispered, “and I don’t know. I mean… it’s Channie. We raised him to be a pretty fabulous guy, or at least we didn’t screw up too badly whilst he was raising himself, or whatever. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to be what he wants. I told him that, but I’m wondering… it would be nice if all of us matched up like that, right?”

 

Seungkwan grabbed the bundle of dirty linen. “Chan wouldn’t want you just because it’d be convenient on seating arrangements,” he said bluntly. “And you wouldn’t want him just because of that either, hyung. Rather leave it alone and see what happens. That’s a lesson that I had to learn myself too. Let’s prepare for the comeback and then we can talk afterwards. In the meantime, we’re the main singers of the band still, and we’re going to have to show everyone else that we’ve still got it.” Shuffling everything over to one side, he reached out a hand to the man that was as close as a blood brother to him. “Let’s make a promise, okay? We’re going to work hard and knock everyone’s socks off, and live our lives as beautifully as we can – right?”

 

“Right!” Seokmin chorused, happiness veiling the distraught emotions about Chan for the moment. “And we have to work on a song for BSS too, we can do a unit performance at the stage…”

 

Their voices trailed off quietly, leaving the immaculate room behind to soak quietly in the sunlight through the tall windows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. I don't know why I struggled so much with this chapter, except to say that what happened between Chan and Seokmin vexed me. I still don't have answers for any SeokChan shippers, sorry! 
>   2. If anyone's curious, here's the [dress](https://www.dhresource.com/0x0/f2/albu/g7/M01/16/10/rBVaSlrIgEmAKd6kAAMAu90Y-n0470.jpg) that Olivia had on. 
>   3. My friend made another moodboard for this story, this time [Meanie](https://ton.twitter.com/i/ton/data/dm/1054450204085248004/1054450168421146624/pDqPoF_s.jpg)! 
>   4. The song for this chapter is Seventeen's '[Run To You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7QGXsQklZgo&ab_channel=seventeenlyrics)', chosen because it seems to fit the dynamics of Chan's thought process, at least in this story. 
>   5. The story is slowly moving to its close. There will the concert, and perhaps an epilogue, but it was always about them getting the group back together. 
>   6. Aside from BooSeokSoon, which other units do you want to see at the concert?
>   7. If you have a free moment, please head over to [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ForNettles/status/1056627041775349765?s=20) and vote in the 'what do I write next?' poll! 
> 



	19. Chapter 19

Seungkwan leant against the doors leading to the patio, eyes half-lidded against the light of the setting sun. Behind him the guys were getting everything ready for dinner. As a congratulations on one month of brutal rehab and training survived, they had gone out fishing today, and an old fisherman had finally sold them some fish out of sheer pity. The lounge was full of noise from Seokmin and Jisoo trying to scale fish. Jeonghan, the incomparably lazy butt that he was, sat curled up against the back, watching and occasionally commenting.

 

Of the lot that had stayed behind, his hyung had suffered the most. There had been bad days and worse nights, but he had pulled through and Seungkwan… well, the thought sometimes made him feel religious, as if there was something bigger out there to watch over Seventeen’s angel. Something – someone – that wanted said angel back on his feet, and made sure never to push too far.

 

They had taken it in turns, Jisoo to take care of him at nights, because he was the only one that Jeonghan could fall asleep next to. Seungkwan to swim with him to build up his strength after they had an expert out to check the water and map the currents. Seokmin and Mingyu to go to the gym with him, sweating out the shakes and cravings. Wonwoo to take him on long walks around the island, keeping a quiet confidence about what was said in those times. The doctors to pronounce him on the healing path, but warn that the journey wasn’t over yet.

 

In the end, it was Hansol that took him to the graveyard and sat him down for a long talk. Jeonghan had come back white and shivering, but redoubled his efforts to get clean.

 

The press knew that something was up with the members of Seventeen, especially with the court cases ongoing at the moment. Seungkwan still wondered how much money had been laid out to conceal the particulars, even though everyone suspected that it was more than just the female idol members that came forward. The lot at the beach house ignored the media as much as they could, choosing instead to practice – days and nights of practice with bodies not quite ready for the stage yet. Seungkwan lost two kilos, then four more, sweated off him by the workout plans Minghao sent them from China.

 

Now, standing with the last of the sunshine fading from the island, only halfway aware of the light going on behind him, he breathed in time with his house and felt the change in its soul. It had been clean and bright and scoured of everything when he came here, but over the past month and a half it had grown full again, mirroring its owner’s mind. There would forever be some remnant of the band in its sun-soaked corners now, lingering gently as the day’s heat passed.

 

Warned by some sixth sense, he turned as a set of arms slid around him, thinner and less muscled than Hansol’s. “Hyung,” he protested laughingly, making to catch Wonwoo’s taller body as it slumped against him. “Hyung, what is it?”

 

Wonwoo, usually not one for skinship, kept where he was, using Seungkwan as a convenient resting place for his chin as he stared out to sea. “Are you ready?” he asked softly in his deep voice. “For tomorrow’s trip.”

 

Seungkwan stilled at the reminder. They had to go to the capital for a judge to hear Jeonghan’s evidence, and to start getting all their ducks in line for a possible return. He knew it had to be, but a part of him wanted to hide on the island as well, let the world pass him by as he revelled in his bandmates’ presence. “Not really,” he admitted softly as Wonwoo stepped away from him at length. “I want to stay in this moment forever, but that would be silly too, right?” He paused, eager to get the focus off him. “Did Mingyu-hyung chase you away again because you wanted to get married in front of a judge?”

 

“Hardly,” Wonwoo muttered, choosing instead to drape his arm over Seungkwan’s shoulders. “And it’s not silly to want to stay in a moment of happiness.”

 

Seungkwan’s eyes searched out Vernon’s tall form and thought of a late-night conversation they had about the future, concerning performing and coming out and a million and one other things. He watched as he stretched to get a clean chopping board, the way his muscles bunched under the thin, sleeveless shirt that was all he put on after swimming earlier. His querencia, even if he didn’t say it enough. “Jihoon-hyung has a lot of new songs he wants us to start recording,” he muttered, more to think on than convey information. “It should be okay, hyung, right?”

 

Wonwoo gave a soft sigh. “Seungkwan-ah,” he muttered. “Don’t try to take all the burden for getting us through into a comeback concert. Sometimes, let us be the ones to carry you for a while too. We’re together, it’ll be fine.”

 

Seungkwan’s body shivered without his say-so, minute muscles relaxing until he slumped against the arm Wonwoo had about his shoulder. “I love you, hyung,” he admitted softly. “Let’s be together for each other from now on too.”

 

“Idiot,” Wonwoo scolded fondly. “Of course. Hyung loves you too, though I will deny it if you ever tell anyone. I…”

 

“Seungkwanie!” Jeonghan called from the couch. “Seungkwanie, I need hugs, Joshuji is trying to touch me with his fishy hands!”

 

Seungkwan muffled a watery swallow, felt Wonwoo give him a discreet squeeze, and went to inveigle himself into Jeonghan’s embrace as he had done in the past. Seconds later Seokmin joined them, sailing over the back of the couch to land on their pile, and his happiness was complete for another day.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, boarding at the butt-crack of dawn, he felt distinctly in need of a pick-me-up as he settled in the window seat of the small jet. When they were all younger and on tour, he had regularly suckered Hansol out of it, but to his surprise there was no fight over it today. “You need to say goodbye more than I do,” his boyfriend had said, and so he did, resting his forehead against his arm as he stared at the beginning glimmers of sunshine over the fading island.

 

The trip was short, way too short, and way too many photos were taken by suspicious members of the press and fansites loitering for their idol groups. He said nothing about it, merely slipped on his glasses and got into the van the company had provided. It was like a blast from the past: Seokmin was singing too loudly, Jeonghan and Mingyu were giggling over extra-sour sweets on the seat between them, and the rest of them closed their eyes to try and catch up on sleep.

 

Later, way later as they all filed into the lifts at HQ, he woke up a little bit, but only enough that he didn’t fall over when Chan pounced on him. Somewhere in the flurry of hugs Soonyoung dragged him into a conference room where Woozi gave him a commiserating grimace. It was loud and noisy until Seungcheol settled down at the top of the table in the VP seat. Oddly, it brought back memories of their first conference as a new band. He wondered if aspiring idols felt as scared of him as they had of their VP.

 

“We lucked out,” Seungcheol announced flatly. “We hadn’t had much luck with getting space at Gocheok, but a friend got me in of the schedule for the rebuild they just completed for the Olympic Stadium. We’ll be their first act, in fact. He got me a week-long slot, but we’ll have to be ready in two and a half months. I’ve spoken to Jun-ah and Minghao-ah, they’ll barely be able to make it, so we’ll need to decide quickly. We don’t have to perform every day, we have enough acts to stretch it out into a family concert. I spoke with the managers for the bands. Most of their members are cautiously inclined to a concert at least.”

 

Jisoo frowned slightly as he leant forward in his seat. “How many seats?”

 

Seungcheol smirked at him. “A hundred and fifty thousand,” he said. “It’s still the largest arena in Seoul.”  

 

Seungkwan felt nailed to his chair, eyes opening wide. “But hyung, do we even have that many fans anymore? It’s been years since we performed.”

 

Something between a chuckle and a villainous cackle escaped Jeonghan’s lips. “With all the press these days?”

 

“He’s right,” Chan said from his spot between Mingyu and Jihoon. “If we send out a live to the fans, old channels and new, and start promoting right away, it won’t be that difficult, hyung. Get out the news that there’s a comeback concert, give them the dates, and they’ll be there. If a few of you could join me at my signs, that’ll help too?”

 

“I have three tracks ready to be given over to video editing,” Jihoon added. “If we get video of them in quickly, that’ll help as well, we’ll be able to compose a good intro video.”

 

Seungkwan swallowed as the excitement start growing in the pit of his stomach. As old a feeling as it was, he hadn’t forgotten it. It bubbled up into his veins like champagne, and he had to clamp a hand to Hansol’s knee to keep himself steady.

 

Soonyoung-hyung smiled at him over the table. “You got us this far, Seungkwanie. We’re a group again. Now it’s our turn to take over. Leave it all to the hyungdeul, okay?”

 

“We need to find places to stay,” Wonwoo added softly.

 

Seungcheol shifted to lean his elbows onto the table. “There’s a building I own in Gangnam, I’ll send you the address. That’s if any of you want to live together – there are a few open apartments.”

 

“I have space too!” Chan noted. “I’ve got two empty rooms in my apartment.”

 

Seungkwan felt Hansol look at him and returned the glance, squeezing his knee slightly.

 

“Want to share?” Hansol asked Jisoo across the table. “We can take up Chan’s two bedrooms, and it’ll give us some time to shop around for a nice place. My apartment here’s in storage, so…” He darted a look to Seungkwan, mutely questioning.

 

“And mine’s being hired out at the moment,” Seungkwan confirmed. “If you don’t mind, Channie?”

 

At Chan’s nod, Wonwoo spoke up. “So that leaves Seok-ah, myself and Mingyu, and Jun-hyung and Minghao-ah when they arrive? Seungcheol-hyung, you have an apartment somewhere like that?”

 

Seungcheol nodded. “If you don’t mind being in the same building as some of our other idols? It’d be a relief in a way, to have someone older there to keep an eye out for them. All the managers are very busy at the moment, and we have a new group forming…” He broke off to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “They’re almost ready to debut too. The next few months are going to be tight.”

 

“Not W.Steria?” Seungkwan asked with rising excitement, managing a large smile as Seungcheol nodded. “That’s excellent! It’s been too long since we had a female group. Someone for Pristin to take under their wing. Do you want me to reach out to some of my industry contacts? I can get us a few good TV spots as well.”

 

Seungcheol inhaled, but it was Jeonghan that spoke up. “We need to have a press conference first,” he said, fingers braided together around his old phone until his knuckles were white. “I need to get things off my back first. I need to… we need to make people see that it didn’t work. That we’re still standing as one group. I need to see that. I need to talk to people here, and I need to talk to that bastard’s wife, and I… and I…”

 

Seokmin smiled as Jeonghan fell silent. “We’ll be with you, hyung,” he stated. “Whatever it takes. We’ll all be there with you.”

 

Jeonghan’s return smile was tremulous but beautiful.


	20. Chapter 20

Preparations for the concert flew amidst the media outrage. Thankfully, the news that Seventeen was getting back together and that Pledis would have one super-concert made everyone howl for tickets. Seungcheol, who had originally thought they might have to string it out into a family concert, had doubts on the second day when, together with the top execs and managers in the company, he had to start picking and choosing acts for every day of the week.

 

Contrasted to that, thanks to some magic from Takeji-san and Pledis’ own lawyers and spin doctors, the court case passed by as silently as everyone could have expected it to. Jeonghan had gone to see the divorcing wife with Jisoo, and though what they had said to each other would remain quiet forever, Seventeen’s angel had a lighter heart when he emerged from it, and had made it through the small press conference with few battle wounds. To everyone’s surprise, on the day of the conference their old fans had not only rocked up, but arrived _respectfully_ , providing them with a silent, huge mass of supporters. Each one of them had somehow gotten hold of silken white Calla lilies, and for once fandoms mingled without incident.

 

Now, standing on one side of the huge, bustling stage, Seungkwan watched as they wrestled the huge display screens into place, checking that everything moved correctly. They would be doing a sound check later on, but for now the elaborate main stage still buzzed with electricians, builders, maintenance crew and stage managers, all shouting over each other, all somehow doing their jobs despite the noise. Behind him Seokmin was surrounded by a tiny group of children, kids of the workers that, because they were given no notice, had no one to babysit for them. When he had left them, he had been teaching them nursery rhymes and cat’s cradle.

 

He looked down at the song list in his hand for the first night. Pristin would be performing first – he had wandered past the ladies to greet them earlier – and had chosen some of their oldest hits like ‘Wee Woo’ and ‘We Are Pristin’ to start off with. W.Steria would be after them in their first huge concert just after debut, after which AVES would take the stage. The rest of the night, all two hours of it, would be Seventeen, and Jihoon had flatly laid down the law on the music he wanted to play. They’d open with ‘Thanks’ as a thank-you to their patient fans, then ‘Don’t Wanna Cry’, before the program’d move to all new stuff.

 

Grimacing, he thought back to the new song Jihoon had made for the vocal unit. ‘Chasing Rainbows’ was one of the most difficult songs he had ever sung in his life; he had his voice back, but even so singing it would be arduous. Even if he forgot the melody, which was punishing, the song’s message which spoke about appreciating the everyday miracles rather than chasing rainbows, had hit him deeply. If only he had appreciated Hansol and his brothers more, the past three years would never have happened. There wasn’t a day he didn’t still feel guilty about it; it was a guilt that would take years to mellow, and would never quite go away.

 

The song after that, Jeonghan and Jisoo’s new duet, was still tentatively titled ‘Unknown #4’, because no one could come up with a name that felt right. It was a lover’s duet, there was no way it wasn’t, but it was an adult one, with a slow, drugging beat supporting the higher, more vocal passages of it. He had been as surprised as the others when Jihoon told them that Hansol had composed it – it was so far from his normal stuff that it almost didn’t seem possible.

 

Hansol… Hansol.

 

Seungkwan’s mind hitched on him, tugging out a smile. He was around somewhere as well, and Seungkwan would find him later on, but it was easier now. There was no mad rush to be close to him, not like earlier in their lives. He knew that tonight he’d be climbing into bed next to Chwe Hansol. One finger moved over the ring on his finger, twisting it to and fro.

 

A buzz in his pocket distracted him and he pulled out his phone, frowning at the message from Jihoon. Just a ‘meet me here’ and a cross over one of the smaller rooms here at the concert hall. Shaking his head, he moseyed off the stage and into the warren of corridors behind it, checking the ridiculously tiny map until he peeked in at the right door. It was just Jihoon, dressed down in a long-sleeved t-shirt, tracksuit pants and his nth pair of beloved Gucci slides, curled up in a chair with a ginormous mug of Coke before him, staring blearily at the screen.

 

“Hyung?” Seungkwan wondered. “You wanted to see me?”

 

“Sit down.” Jihoon’s voice cracked a little, a sure sign he either didn’t sleep or just got up, or a combo of the two. “That song you gave me is finished.”

 

Seungkwan blinked. He had scrawled ‘To The Women In My Life’ on the back of a bill on the way back to Seoul; it had been to thank the women that had made his life what it was: his mother and sisters, Jangmi-ssi and Eunji-ah. The lines had been higgledy piggledy and the tune common, not what it was in his mind, and he had given it to Jihoon days ago for safekeeping, if he ever felt like working on it again. “You finished it?” he asked dumbly. “But it sucked so much.”

 

Jihoon gave him an irritated look. “The thought behind it was good. You just don’t have a lot of lyrical experience. I tightened it up a little here and there and I had to give it a new name, but it’s finished if you want to hear it. I thought… I thought that you might sing it on the final night in your solo stage.”

 

“What did you call it?” Seungkwan pressed. “What… I…”

 

Saying nothing, Jihoon pulled back the mixer’s playback to the start and pressed ‘play’. It started off softly, with a fast, almost unheard heartbeat, the sound from the old sonar video his mother still had from her pregnancy with him. The thudding of two hearts, hers so much slower than his, before it modulated to girls laughing and the actual track started. Jihoon’s voice was very high and sweet on it as he sang the guide, taking them through the moments in Seungkwan’s life. Faster and faster it went, adding vague city noises to it, and it stopped, hitching over a blurred male voice introducing itself. Outsiders wouldn’t know it, but he recognised that, the sound of Hansol greeting him for the first time.

 

_Where had hyung even gotten that clip?_

 

Tears welled in his eyes as he listened to Jihoon’s voice sing about the support and love he had received over the years, the loves and the heartbreaks. The ones he had never met but that shaped him like Jangmi-ssi and Eunji-ah, whose part giggled like distant butterflies. It was an ode to the women in his life, by turns sweet and sad, and it made him cry all over again, bending over Jihoon’s lap to press his sobbing face into his tracksuited thighs. He cried there for long moments, with only Jihoon’s piano-player hands to gently comb through his hair.

 

“It’s called Flower Rain,” Jihoon said quietly. “Because that’s what it sounds like, like they rained love on you like a million flowers. You’re a very lucky man, Seungkwan-ah.”

 

“I know,” he sobbed. “I know.”

 

“You broke us apart,” Jihoon went on inexorably. “Maybe not the only one, but you were also strong enough to get us back together. For that, for giving Soonyoung his brothers back, for bringing my brothers back, for coming back yourself… thank you, Boo Seungkwan. You did the right thing.”

 

There, crying on his hyung’s lap, Seungkwan finally felt the bulk of the guilt and fear leave him, and he felt like a lighter man when he straightened, wiping his eyes with the complimentary tissues. “Thank you, hyung. I promise, I’ll sing this, it’ll be the best song I ever sung.”

 

Jihoon waved him out with a flutter of one hand. “Don’t say that. We’re still going to be singing together for a long time. I’ll see you tomorrow so that we can start practicing it. And Seungkwan…”

 

“Yes, hyung?” he said, turning back at the door.

 

Jihoon gave him an indescribable look. “Be brave. Don’t make my mistake.”

 

Seungkwan, not knowing what to say, merely nodded and left the small room.

 

* * *

 

The days of the concerts drew clear, with none of the clouds have have been obscuring the group for the past three years. Backstage was a hive of activity again, but this time Seungkwan was in the midst of it with the rest of his group, getting made up and getting in their concert best. He had passed by the other groups earlier to cheer them up and congratulate the young members of W.steria on their successful debut; when the boys of AVES had all bowed in thanks for the chicken that had mysteriously arrived in their rooms, he had grinned to hear them call him sunbae in their serious, young voices.

 

Now, with the fans already vocally going crazy, he shuffled into his spot as they disappeared off stage and the giant display screens dimmed themselves before their intro video began. His eyes felt stiff with makeup and his hair wouldn’t move until it started raining and perhaps not even then, but he felt his heart trip into an overbeat, saw Soonyoung’s intent tiger eyes gleaming just next to him. He opened his mouth to breathe out a shuddering sigh and braced himself, then was flung high in the air by the lifts.

 

The members of Seventeen landed amidst the crash of thunder and screams of their fans, and it was as if they had never left.

 

‘Untitled #4’ became an instant overnight sensation, hitting the charts like a slap in the face, and their old records’ sales boomed as the family concert walked steadily through its days. Comments streamed in via VLives and the fan-café; Seventeen was a hit again, and Pledis had finally gotten rid of the sins on its back.

 

Seungkwan felt like a totally different person as he stepped on stage the last time that week, solo, with just the single spotlight on him. Their new songs had been interspersed throughout the week. Seokmin’s ‘All I need to say’ was already reaching to challenge ‘Untitled #4’, and overseas in China Jun and Minghao’s ‘Days spent with you’ had already gathered over three million hits. He breathed in, and breathed out, and tried to concentrate on what he could see of the audience past the spotlight. They were just an amorphous crowd, really, with lightsticks flashing.

 

_Bravery, Seungkwan, bravery._

 

“Thank you,” he said clearly. “Thank you for waiting for us to come back. Thank you for once again walking the path next to us. I know you want to hear ‘Aju Nice’ again, hear Hoshi-hyung shout ‘Sorijilleo’ again, hear what the hip hop unit has up their sleeve, but just a moment. I wanted to tell you that the next song is dear to me, not just for the influences that made me what I am, but that will shape me in the future. So please listen to it, and I hope my loved ones hear the message.”

 

He breathed in and began to sing as the backing music started. It sounded a little different from the guide, a little richer, a little more sentimental, because it was _his_ song and in a way it was about him growing up and becoming what he was today. By the end of it he had tears on his face and from what he could see of the fans, they did too, but the lightsticks never stopped in their slow, rhythmic wave that seemed to drive his heartbeat.

 

With that same heart in his throat, aware of Mingyu and Wonwoo on one side – Mingyu gave him a tiny nod – and Seungcheol and Hansol on the other side, he inhaled deeply. “Chwe Hansol,” he said, and saw Seungcheol push him out on the stage. “I love you,” he said as simply as he could, and hear the fans gasp, cheer and shriek. Still, his augmented voice came clear through all of that. “You are the only future I could ever want. I know that you’ve already asked, but will you marry me? Please?”

 

Hansol’s eyes were very bright and promised him sweet punishment for doing it before everyone, but he smiled his special smile at him. “Boo Seungkwan,” he said into his mike. “I thought you would never ask.”

 

The crowd rocked the huge stadium with their cheers, off their heads with excitement, and Seungkwan smiled at them with wet cheeks, knowing he had finally made the most of his second chance. It would be a beautiful tomorrow, he had earned it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   1. For those still reading, this isn't the end. There are still two epilogues to come. 
>   2. For those not still reading (that won't see this), thank you for sticking to me as long as you have! 
> 



	21. Chapter 21

The sea roared with an endless hunger, with just the faintest hints of phosphorescence tipping the waves. Here, between the two cliff points that provided them the private beach, the noise boomed between the struts of wet rock. Up at the house it would be a quiet whisper, but down here it was overwhelming. He knew enough not to go into the sea at night, but even standing on its very edges with rolled up pants and bare feet felt as if he hovered on the edge of some great mystery.

 

The waves that lapped insistently over his ankles sought to pull him in, eroding the sand under his feet until he had to dig his toes into it to remain standing. The night breeze was thick with the scent of salt and the faintest hints of decaying seaweed. All of it, the entire overwhelming experience, reminded him of the month they had just been through. The week’s concert had gone by better than could be expected, and the country was grabbed by Seventeen fever again. Their fans had not only remained, but multiplied; people as far away as Norway and Chile were commenting on the fan-café about how their waiting hadn’t gone to waste.

 

It seemed the fans had always known what he had chosen to forget for a few years.

 

Not everyone was accepting of their proposed wedding, but Hansol was past the stage of giving a fuck about that. Even in such a traditional country there were still pockets of happiness to be carved out; homosexual marriage was frowned upon but not illegal anymore, and even if it had been he would have taken Josh up on his offer of doing it in the states.

 

The crash of the waves boomed through his skull, scouring out old thoughts with its roaring.

 

His second marriage, who would have thought? Crouching down, butt barely above the waves, he thought of the woman he had married once. He and Jangmi had not been happy together because they had been stupid, so very stupid, and not even Eunji would have been a plaster for them very much longer. They had just been too different, and a drunken mistake was still a mistake, even if that mistake had given him the greatest thing of his life. He had tried to be a good husband, but it hadn’t been in him yet, there had been too much emotional turmoil still left.

 

Days of feeling guilty that he loved another man and not her, the mother of his daughter. Weeks in which they argued because they couldn’t be young and wild and free any longer. All they had really agreed on was Eunji and how much they both grew to love her. In that last terrible stretch, when he sought to really make a new start and brought them here things had gone so well, _so_ well even here on the island, and just when they were within reach that asshole took them away.

 

He pinched his eyes shut against the night and lowered one hand to play with the waves. A year of puttering around the graves, when Seungkwan’s mother scraped him up every night and poured him into bed. A year of trying to find his feet again, of learning how to be a solo entity again. Of packing clothes and toys and donating everything because he couldn’t stare at Eunji’s bottles anymore, or smell Jangmi’s perfume on the sheets stored away in the cupboard. A wholly forgettable stretch nearly six months long when he was drunk almost every night, until his sister had put her foot down and hauled him back up by his hair. Not only up, but back to his parents’ place, where his mother insisted going to see a therapist was not bad, not a sign of weakness. Where his father had driven him every day, slowly and carefully, because he couldn’t stand the feeling of being in a car and broke down every time he had to see Seoul traffic. He had celebrated his therapy paying off when he could get into the back of a taxi and be driven to the airport by a stranger.

 

He remembered carefully making overtures of friendship again: Seungcheol-hyung, the Golden Couple, the nights he and Josh sat up talking about mistakes in life. Slowly, carefully everyone had put him back together again; he wasn’t the man he had been, but he had felt as if he approached some definition of manhood at least.

 

And then… and then…

 

And then he had come back to Jeju for the death anniversary, and the sun chose to shine down on him again. Even now he remembered that night in perfect clarity: Seungkwan in a green shirt and jeans, gorgeous against the backdrop of his mother’s kitchen cupboards, and how he had stared. How the moment dragged out, until his stomach had given up its queasy surprise and how his being had just… settled down. _Boo Seungkwan_ , his cells had whispered, not just his heart. Almost six months ago now, and here he was hunkered down on a beach somewhere on the ass end of midnight, wondering if troughs of sorrow also deserved mountains of bliss.

 

Married, they would be _married_ , the thing he had wanted for more than half of his life. He hadn’t been the only one that had changed; though Seungkwan would always live bright in the eye of the world, he had quieted down a little in private, thought a little more, made of his body and heart a haven for Hansol to shelter in.

 

He shook his hand as dry as he could as he straightened, feet wriggling out where the sand had covered them. It cost him a moment to pull free of the slurry but he managed it, and turned to climb the stairs back to the main house to go and hug his fiancé.

 

Blinking, his mouth curved into a smile as he saw Seungkwan sit on the bottom step wrapped up in a blanket, patiently waiting for him. He wandered over and leant down to drop a kiss on his bed-head, then sat down behind him so they could stare out at the water together. “Are you ready for the house transformation?” he asked curiously, lifting arms to wrap it around the other man’s shoulders.

 

“Yes and no,” Seungkwan murmured, leaning back into him. “I didn’t expect the Mom Brigade to get together so terrifying efficiently.”

 

Hansol smirked against his hair, closing his eyes again and resting a cheek against the honey-blonde strands. “At least you won’t have to worry about anyone bringing fifteen silver gravy boats, right?”

 

“Just a new house,” Seungkwan replied snidely. “Gravy boats and all.”

 

Their parents had decided to team up for a wedding gift, since the two of them were rich enough to pay for fifteen weddings if they wanted to. Seungkwan’s sunshine house would finally be getting its long-deserved makeover, with the mood boards and renovation plans and everything signed off, approved by the engineers on the City Council and all local impact studies made. It was the odd kind of poetic Hansol only thought of when writing lyrics: as their relationship renewed itself, so the location of it would renew itself as well.

 

“Hansolie,” Seungkwan muttered, wriggling back. “Let’s elope.”

 

Hansol stiffened a little, shocked. “You really do want everyone in the world to want to kill us, don’t you, Kwan? I’m not sure who’s going to gut us first, the Moms or Mingyu-hyung. If we get married without them…”

 

Seungkwan reached to twine their fingers together. “I’m not saying that we shouldn’t hold a wedding, because I want one and you’re not allowed to run away, but let’s just quietly get married somewhere in front of a judge? Just for the two of us. No family, no friends, just us. I want… I want just a little piece of you to myself, Hansolie. We’re going to be in the public eye so much from now on, I want to stock up on memories.”

 

 _Why deny yourself the happiness,_ his heart argued.

 

Hansol felt the sun shining down on him, even though it was after midnight. “Tomorrow,” he whispered into Seungkwan’s hair. “Let’s go tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

They didn’t get married later that day. Their house was empty since everyone was moving back into the dorms – albeit in pairing-appropriate rooms this time – and the Mom Brigade really did arrive very early, barely four hours after their visit to the beach. He was still yawning, hand barely around a cup of coffee, when the knock on the door came. Hansol won the quick rock-paper-scissors and disappeared to go shower as he padded to the door.

 

“My,” his mother said mildly. “I’ve not seen that much bedhead since that stint in kindergarten where you believed there were goblins hiding in it. Good morning, darling.” She leant in to kiss his cheek, scuttled past him and let Hansol’s mother at him.

 

“Eomeonim,” he muttered, careful when he hugged her, but struggled to keep up enough to stay awake, and they scooted everything past him perhaps guessing that they’d not be able to get a lot of effort out of him. He made his way to the couch to sit there yawning as they bustled around, talking about light and lines of sight and where the entrance to the second floor should be, and what they were going to do with the space downstairs, and a million-and-one other little details. It washed over him rather like sea noise, occasioning only a murmur of agreement until a hand settled on his shoulder.

 

He looked up to find Hansol smiling down at him, jerking a thumb to the bedroom. “Escape whilst you can,” he whispered. “Shower’s free.”

 

Giving up his coffee after another sip, Seungkwan nodded and went to get on with his life.

 

They escaped a few hours later, found that the only judge that could perform ‘secondary marriages’ was off sick, and made an appointment to see him the next day before they went to ‘their’ café, the one on the beach where the owner was a Carat. She chivvied them to her table again, arranging a discreet screen of plants against the people taking candid photographs of them, and left them with a menu and their privacy.

 

“Do you want to go to the graveyard before we pack up and leave for Seoul?” Seungkwan asked as he looked down at his phone, where members were making fun of poor Chan for something said at a fansign. “I don’t think the house is going to be a habitable zone for much longer, especially not when they start breaking the roof down.”

 

Hansol smiled slowly at him. “That might be best. Are you sad to be leaving it for so long? Or that it’ll no longer be your house as you know it now, with the long stretches of sunlight and nothing? I still remember the early days of practically no furniture and sunscreen inside the house.”

 

Seungkwan looked up, not shocked but a little bit touched. “The sunlight will still be there. I don’t think I need it any longer, but we can always come back,” he said after a moment’s thought. His nose wrinkled. “Besides, it’s our house. You know that, right?” He looked down at his phone’s screen, flicked it back on and pulled up his email. “Here.”

 

Hansol took the phone and scrolled carefully through the attached mail from Seungkwan’s laywer, confirming what he had put in place over a month ago – the day after Hansol had asked him to marry him, in fact. “What’s this?” he asked curiously. “I’ve never seen so much legalese in my life.”

 

Seungkwan took a deep breath. “It’s something akin to a prenuptial agreement,” he explained. “Not one that you need to sign, one that I sign. In it I acknowledge you as my husband, not just life partner, which after a whole lot of dodging through the arcane convolutions of the inheritance and tax laws, means that you’re now recognised as the primary beneficiary of my estate outside of some specific bequests. The house really is on both our names now.”

 

Hansol’s hazel eyes were glued to his face as he explained, phone screen automatically switching off. “I never wanted your things, Kwan,” he said gently. “Only you.”

 

“Yes,” Seungkwan acknowledged, feeling his heart melt at the look in Hansol’s eyes. “But rather than you taking it, I’m choosing to give it, along with my heart.”

 

Hansol looked away, then held up a hand before he wandered away to make some phone-calls. When he returned, he held his hand out to Seungkwan. “I told our mothers we won’t be back today, and booked us a room in the Silla.”

 

Seungkwan stood, throat dry. “You did?”

 

“I did.” Hansol considered him. “To talk, and for other things.”

 

Seungkwan’s wobbly smile firmed. “Let’s go then.”

 

* * *

 

The next day’s ceremony was a tiny thing. Arriving there are five minutes before the time on their appointment, they had the time to sit down in a small study lined with books on most of its sides, with the lovely paper smell mixing with the cool neutrality of the air con. It was so quiet that the squeaks when they shifted on the leather chairs sounded as loud as thunder, and pretty soon Seungkwan felt so stuffed full of giggles that his cheeks bulged out like a squirrel’s.

 

Hansol, the rat bastard, was as calm and tranquil as a glass of water, calmly browsing online.

 

He nearly exploded with laughter as the door swung open to admit the judge, but he swallowed it down in shock. He had known she was a woman, but he hadn’t expected her to be so young, scarcely a decade older than themselves. She gave them a small smile, shrugged her robe off and hung it on a peg, and threw herself down in her huge chair behind the impressive rosewood desk. “Right,” she said calmly, with a twinkle of eyes. “Let’s get the two of you hitched.”

 

Seungkwan did laugh then, all the nerves spilling out, until his ribs ached with the effort. Hansol’s side-eye at him only made his laughter trail off in nervous giggles, but he pulled himself together, tried to plaster on a serious face. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry…”

 

The judge sat back and grinned, shaking her head. “Trust me, I’d far rather marry someone helpless with laughter than helpless with tears.”

 

Hansol leant to place his phone away. “I hope you’re feeling better now, ma’am?” he asked thoughtfully, quietly. “We’re sorry to press on your first day back.”

 

She shook her head. “It’s quite alright, I’m just sorry you had to wait. The other judges did not … well.”

 

Seungkwan nodded. Even though homosexual marriage was legal in Korea as of a year or so ago, many of the old guard were still against it, especially outside the main cosmopolitan areas. If this woman had not volunteered, Jeju-do likely wouldn’t even have had the option, despite the fact that it was such a popular holiday destination. “Thank you,” he said, dipping his head a little. “My fiancé’s indulging me with this.”

 

Smiling at the both of them, she reached into a drawer and hauled out a thick stack of paperwork, to which she added all the documents from Seungkwan that he had already signed and printed out for her, and a set of soju with three tiny cups.

 

It really was the best of times for Seungkwan, that morning amidst the books. She took them through all the documentation carefully, explained their rights and how it differed from heterosexual marriages a little still. He fell quiet as Hansol repeated the vows in his deep, soft voice, and tried not to cry as he carefully slipped a thin platinum band in behind Seungkwan’s Jeju ring. Though he couldn’t see from that angle, he could feel engraving on the inside and promised himself he’d read it later on.

 

“I’ll protect you,” Hansol whispered as he squeezed his hand and looked up at Seungkwan’s teary eyes. “Always and always, Kwan. Mine now. I love you.”

 

Seungkwan nodded and wobbled through his agreements and vows, judge patient, before he finally got to put his ring on Chwe Hansol’s finger: a simple loop of titanium with no gems, but a simple raised surface intersected by geometric lines. “I love you too,” he got out, tears running quietly down his cheeks. “So very, very much. I’m so happy my heart wants to shout it out to the whole world.”

 

Hansol laughed softly and reached to wipe his cheeks clean. “You already did, jagi,” he murmured, and leant in to kiss him softly, persuasively.

 

When they pulled away, aware they were still in public, the judge was smiling at them both with perfect happiness, and she handed tissues over the desk with little fanfare. “Always remember this moment,” she told them softly. “Let this happiness be the core of your lives together. Now, shall we drink a toast together?”

 

One toast went to two before they got up, bowed and left her study; when they left the building entirely Seungkwan tilted his head to the sun and smiled brilliantly, clutching Hansol’s hand in his. “Where to now?”

 

“Wherever my husband desires.”

 

“Do you remember that therapeutic walk I whined over that once?” Seungkwan asked. “The one with the small pebbles.”

 

They ambled down to the beach and the spot where he had complained so much so many years ago. Sitting side to side they removed their shoes; Hansol with his Goofy socks and Seungkwan with his pale blue. Putting their shoes aside, Seungkwan pulled his husband up and took a breath, stepping onto the wandering streak of pebbles. He winced – it was just as sore as all those years ago, and opened his eyes to see Hansol laughing at him. The younger looked left, then right, before he reached to scoop him up in his arms, bouncing him when Seungkwan started to complain.

 

“Seungkwan,” he murmured, broad shoulders set to carry him easily. “Shut up. I don’t care who sees us anymore.”

 

Seungkwan fell silent as Hansol carried him every step of the way, head lolling back to look at the forever sky stretching above them. In that moment, with one hand around Hansol’s neck and one hand held up to the sky to admire his new ring, another little part of him healed. “Ne, Hansollie. Do you want to go and celebrate? I’ll scrub your back for you. I… what are you doing?” He frowned as Hansol ignored him to type on his cellphone. “Yah!”

 

“Booking the Uber back to the hotel,” Hansol replied, moving to pull his shoes on. “The sooner the better.”

 

Seungkwan facepalmed and laughed, shaking his head. “Eager,” he teased fondly.

 

“And yet you still married me,” Hansol reminded him as he looked up, hair windblown.

 

Seungkwan’s heart twinged. “Best decision of my life.”


End file.
